Sadie Can't Ever Know
by JohnnyUtah857
Summary: He loved Sadie; Anubis was sure of it. This other path was hopeless and a futile one to fight for, but with Sadie...there was a chance he could be happy. Oh, why had he complicated it so?
1. Roselle

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

The overhead lights flickered above the hospital corridor in the maternity ward. Sadie hated hospitals. People died here, so he was allowed with no questions asked. He stared through the thick glass window at the rows of newborn babies. Three down and the fourth from the left, just like its mother. He had been so sure once that he loved Sadie, but now he was unsure. However, he was sure of his love for the small thing wrapped in-between that pink blanket.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder. The soft music-like voice of the hand's owner murmured in awe, "Isn't she beautiful?"

His lips couldn't help but smile as he uttered, "There's never been a more perfect child."

She smiled. Her gaze was locked on her babe. "You're going back to Sadie, I know. I'm not going to fight you. Just promise me our daughter will know her father," she bluntly stated.

He nodded. "Of course, she's my daughter. I'm not going to do what my parents did to me." He couldn't, he wouldn't let this child bear the same scars he bore. "But Marisol," he paused as the young girl sniffled, "Sadie can't ever know."

Marisol looked at him. Her fingers wrapped around his. Her kind crystal blue eyes met his as she softly replied, "I know. Sadie's your future; you have no other path to choose. Just let me be delusional tonight, let me dream of a perfect life between just us and her, and maybe," another sniffle," a few other children."

He pulled her close to him, allowing her auburn curls to be pressed against his chest. "Roselle Lucia," he lovingly let the name roll off his tongue. Marisol had chosen perfect. For that moment he let himself be lost in her dream. Her father walking her down the aisle in a plush white dress, him kissing her in front of the sunset on their wedding anniversary, them dropping Roselle off at school on her first day, and them playing with their precious children in the their backyard in the Louisiana summer. Perfect, tears threatened to flood his eyes, but he held them back. Sadie, he was Sadie's.

He loved Sadie, right?


	2. The Engagement

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Okay, I have a few things to say before the second chapter. If you have any comments, both positive and negative, please review; I would love some feedback. Also before anyone ends up mislead, for any reason, this isn't going to be your typical Anubis and Sadie story, so don't hate me. I giving you fair warning. For the record I like the Sanubis ship the most, but I can't for good conscience write something where they end up happy together. Don't ask me why because I just don't know. Please enjoy.**

A smile danced upon his cinnamon lips as he watched the blonde that was his girlfriend sitting opposite him in a booth at her favorite restaurant. For seven years he had known her. With a wistful second he remembered how he had first encountered her _ba_ at Osiris's birthday celebration. His fingers brushed over the velvet box that for the moment was hidden in his jean pocket. It was time. The dishes were bare, with only the unwanted scraps left behind.

"Sadie," he softly said.

She didn't hear him. As usual words were streaming from her lips. "…and, yeah, she actually got the role over me. I mean the girl had no actual talent. So, I asked Lacy about it and through some friends of her she was able to discover that the girl had been—"

"Sadie!" he exclaimed.

His girlfriend jumped in surprise and several irritable glances were thrown in their direction by the other clientele of the popular restaurant.

Sadie stared at him, questionably. She carefully brushed a lock of hair behind her slender ear. The streaks in her hair had recently been dyed a blue that coordinated quite well with her eyes. She chuckled, raising one of her eyebrows, "Yeah, Death Boy?"

He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "I want to ask you a question."

Sadie's eyes franticly flickered around; suddenly weary of her surroundings, before shrugging her shoulders. "Okay? Shoot."

He got up from the seat and dug the box out of his pocket as he knelt. Just as he made to open his mouth Sadie's response came in the form of a shriek. "Yesss! Oh yes, yes, yes! Oh, Anubis." She grabbed the front of his plain cotton shirt and pulled him to her, closing the distance between their lips. For that moment everything was the way he had hoped for it to be. Behind him several tables had started clapping and someone loudly whistled two or three times.

Of course all good things end and before they retook their seats their waiter handed him the bill. He nearly doubled over when he read the neat print that listed the sum that was owed. "Inflation," he cursed under his breath in disgust.

Sadie's dialogue had already begun once more. "I can't wait to tell Lacy, and Liz and Em, and, of course, Marisol. After I tell Carter and Zia first, you know what a sensitive dweeb my brother is…"

Marisol, Anubis paused. He should tell her before Sadie could.

"Oh, Anubis, would you give me the ring?" Sadie demanded.

"What?" he had zoned out for a moment, imagining Marisol's reaction once he broke it to her.

"The ring?" Sadie repeated. Sadie loathed repeating herself.

"Oh," he mumbled, quickly handing the box over to her.

She smiled as she placed the ring on her finger, sampling the glimmer as the black gems met with the light of a dull lamp behind her. "It's perfect," she contentedly sighed.

He nodded. "So, what's your plan for the day, dear?"

Sadie casually shrugged. "The usual, Carter asked me to lead a few of the classes. The nome is near to bursting with trainees currently, after all, so everyone's desperately needed. And you?"

It was rare for her to ask about him. "What are my dad's orders for you today?"

He forced a smile. "The usual," he coolly stated. It was a lie. He had asked for the day off and he had been given it, as well as Julius's blessing. There was one other thing he was planning to do today, and that was visit a friend's flat in the city. He sighed; he wouldn't mention that to Sadie, though, for she'd ask who and Anubis knew he mustn't ever have to answer that question lest… in his thoughts he shuddered.

Sadie smiled happily at him. The sparkle in her eyes rivaled that of the gems on the ring. "Okay, but come to Brooklyn House tonight so we can announce our engagement to Carter at dinner."

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek before her whispering playfully in her ear, "I promise." Without another word he left the table and went off to pay the bill.


	3. Marisol

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: As I begin typing this I can hear the fireworks coming from one of the lakes near me. The official tourist season has begun, all I can say I can say goodbye to being sat right away anywhere in town. This is probably the last chapter I'll be posting until June 7****th****, not 6****th**** because I have plans to celebrate the end of the school year on the 6****th**** with a few friends. Until then I have big projects due in English, Science, and one of my longer ortho appointments to look forward to, as well as finals week. So… I'm going to have no life for a while. Please enjoy, and you're welcome to review.**

Her door was a very nice door. It was thick and sturdy, really the prime example of what a door should be. "C'mon," he scoffed; urging himself to raise his arm and just knock already, but his strength had left him. It was one thing to know that it was right for him to be the one to tell her, but another to actually find the courage to do so.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for this unwanted task, when the door flew open. Anubis took a surprised step back as he stared at the girl who stood in the doorway. Since he had known her, her appearance had changed very little. Her auburn curls had been dyed a darker brunette and straightened four years ago when she had gone through a rough phase in life, and her fashion sense had seen quite the revolution as she started her career as the heir to her father's company, but those were the only big changes. Freckles still speckled her cheeks and nose, and she still was taller than any other girl he knew. And there was no denying she was pretty, really pretty.

"Hey, Marisol," Anubis greeted.

Her lip-stick bare lips curled up into that lazy smile that she was prone to wearing. Marisol almost always wore a smile, and it went well with her easy temperament. "Good timing, babe. I just finished frosting a cake. Would you like a piece?"

He weakly nodded.

Marisol gracefully withdrew from the doorframe and allowed his entry into the flat. With a gentle push from Marisol the door clicked shut. "You _know_ where the table is, you're here often enough," her melodic voice teased.

He crossed through the living room to where the table sat, placed in a perfect spot of the window. It was when he remembered what her quality of life was like that he understood why she dreaded pity. She knew she didn't deserve it. Anubis sat, admiring the view from his seat was situated.

Marisol disappeared into the kitchen; minutes later she emerged carrying two plates heaped with generous portions of chocolate cake. She placed one in front of him and the other where she planned to sit. Her dainty hand flew to her mouth as she shook her head, rolling her eyes and chuckling. "Silly, silly me, I forgot the forks again. Wait here, you. I'll be back in a minute."

He stifled a humored grin. Marisol was the kind of person it was nearly impossible to hate or even be annoyed with. With the usual happy skip to her step she returned carrying the silver utensils.

"Where's Roselle?" he inquired, as Marisol delicately placed a fork beside his plate. The flat was absent of the noise the darling girl usually made as she played with her dolls and other toys.

"She's with my father."

Anubis nodded, picking up the fork and slicing a bite off the titanic portion. "That's nice."

"It's some fundraiser at the children's museum. Makes him look good, you know," Marisol added.

He swallowed, not answering.

"Sorry," Marisol sincerely apologized. "Who am I to complain? My parents have always been there for me, while yours…" she paused, not knowing how to ease the awkwardness of the topic, "…yeah. My father loves her, it just also makes him look good, that's all I meant."

"Marisol, don't. It's all right, my parents, it's just their awful lousy. That's never going to be different. You're lucky to have your kind of parents."

She found his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"So…" Marisol started, withdrawing her hand and her gaze from his, "did Sadie like the ring?" There was no anger or resentment or even spite in that voice, yet guilt stung him all the same.

"Marisol," he murmured, his voice catching. "I-I."

"I saw the ring last night, when you were sleeping. My foot found the box when I was on my way to the kitchen for a midnight snack," she recounted.

His eyes watched her, his mouth frowning and his head shaking. "Hate me, yell, or even scream, Marisol. You have every freaking right to."

She met his eyes and somberly smiled. "If I couldn't, didn't understand you, then I'd probably buy a shotgun and shoot you," she noticed how after her statement he froze. "That was a joke," she commented.

"It wasn't funny," he muttered. Though, he did have to admit Marisol wasn't a girl to fire a shotgun. Now Sadie, yep, he saw that easily. Marisol, never, not even if the world was coming to an end.

"Nah, it really wasn't, was it?" She left the question at its root and started where she had left off. "I know you, and understand how you think. Your parents abandoned you to an aunt and uncle and ever since part of you has carried that anguish and pain that longs for the approval and love of your parents. It's that part that struggles against the part that's the man who can't see his own child suffer the same fate. Your need for approval is what forces you to want to please your family, as you do. And it would please your family to see you marry Sadie, and that's why you can't break it off with her."

He hated the truth in her words, but he loved her honesty. She never turned away from the way things actually were and saw them as they were. Marisol was strong, not like Sadie's strong, though. Strong in the sense she wasn't afraid of what the truth was. Sometimes he even caught himself thinking that she knew everything; that she knew he wasn't human, but actually an ancient god, but then he always stopped and remarked to himself what a fool he was.

His fingers locked around her narrow wrist and pulled it to his lips. "It's more complicated than that, Marisol," he mournfully noted. She was human, only a human, not even a magician of the House of Life.

She laughed; it was a broken laugh that led to fragile sobs. He stood and strolled over to where she sat. Intimately he brushed away the hot tears that ran down her lovely freckled cheeks.

"It's only as complicated as you make it, my love," she murmured. He paused, she was always careful never to say that, at least not out loud in front of him. Marisol had realized her words but it made no difference to anything now. He was never hers. Nonetheless she pulled his face down to hers and tenderly let their lips meet, only breaking apart, so Marisol could utter three words.

Her blue eyes confirmed their sincerity and his only response was to answer, "I love you, too." He let go of the boundaries for that moment and let himself be hers, and hers alone.

Half an hour later the sharp cry of the Marisol's home phone found the pair in a compromised state on the couch. "Don't answer it," he pleaded in vain.

Marisol chuckled, "You know I can't." She held a finger to his lips. "Shhh… you're not supposed to be here, remember?" He let her go.

From the study he heard her talking, the words were muffled by the oak door that closed off the room, and thus he was only able to hear broken fragments of the conversation from Marisol's side. He stared up at the ceiling as he waited for his lover to return to his embrace.

It was a good hour before she returned. "That was Sadie," Marisol stated, distancing herself from him. She grabbed his shirt that had been carelessly strewn on the floor and threw it at him. "She never could keep that mouth shut for long, you know. Her head would probably explode if she managed to not speak for ten minutes."

He laughed, "Probably." Anubis sighed before he softly uttered, "Marisol?"

Her eyes met his, but she only sighed dismally. "There are basically two choices for you to pick from. One, you choose only her or only me. Two, we carry on as we are."

He slipped his jeans back on and zipped up the fly before pulling his shirt on over his head. Before he left he kissed her lips and gently asked, "How is it that you never state that as an ultimatum?"

Marisol's fingers gracefully traced his lips and her blue eyes seemed to stare into his very soul. "I don't want to risk losing you."

Anubis wrapped his arms around her and just held her close, reveling in the comfort her presence gave him. "I shouldn't be here," he protested.

Marisol nodded. "I'm among Sadie's best friends; we're supposed to know that, but…"

"But…"

"You'll be back later tonight, right?" she asked.

"Do you want me to?" he ventured. Marisol never said yes, but she also never said no, either.

A wistful smile lit up her face. "Roselle likes it when you tuck her in for the night," Marisol commented.

"Then I'll be here," he promised.

When the door closed behind him Marisol cast a glance over at the pieces of cake that long since been forgotten and stifled a sob.


	4. A Chat With Carter

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Yes, I know I said it was unlikely I would post, but I found the time to write during math (jeez, I can't believe the attitude my math teacher has) and on the bus.**

Carter had never approved of his sister being with him. Part of it was because he had always wanted Sadie to end up with Walt. Anubis couldn't blame him for that, Walt was a great guy. Anubis sighed, was. Walt should've been the guy that she ended up with. Walt wouldn't have hooked up with one of Sadie's best friends, not even once.

Zia sat defensively close to her recently-made husband. She seemed to share the same mistrust of him as her husband. The entire nome had already gathered for the evening meal by the time Sadie pulled him into the dining room. Annoyance flamed behind her eyes as she asked what had made him late. He lied and said that Ammit's walk had ran a bit long, but from her tight grip on his hand somehow he didn't think that she had bought the excuse. His tardiness hadn't bought him any points in Carter's book, either, as he could feel Carter's loathing glare upon him as Sadie sat him in the seat next to hers.

The entire nome seemed to foretell their announcement as the chatter, though, still quite loud, was more reserved than usual. There were also several anxious glances thrown their way by many of the older residents of the Twenty-First Nome.

The meal went by tediously slow and though he knew only minutes were passing it felt like hours. The food was good, actually it was quite delicious, but he didn't notice. He couldn't help but feel stifled under the stern gaze of Carter and his wife. When Anubis asked for quiet, the nome was only too happy to comply. As the announcement left his lips it was greeted by excited squeals and shrieks from many of Brooklyn's House's female occupants and a sour frown from Carter.

Carter cast a knowing look towards his wife and at Zia's nod Cater rose and loudly cleared his throat. The noise vanished instantly. "Anubis, could you come with me? I wish to speak with you, privately," Carter added, eyeing his little sister. Sadie slumped back in her chair with an annoyed roll of her eyes. Anubis nodded and stood, following Carter out of the room and upstairs to the magician's study. Opening the study door he motioned Anubis through, closing the door tightly behind himself. Carter uttered several spells that ensured that the privacy of the room would not be breached. Anubis sat in the armchair opposite the one that sat behind the study's desk, which Carter did not take long to claim.

Carter uncomfortably swallowed. "So…" his future brother-in-law began.

"So, you wanted to talk with me," Anubis coolly finished.

Carter rested his elbows on the hard wooden surface of the desk and brashly began, "Yes, before you marry my sister I want to clear something up about a few rumors that I've heard. Anubis nodded for him to continue. "The old myths say you have a wife. Is that true?"

"No," he coldly replied. _Blue eyes, serene as the summer sky_.

"So, just to clarify there's no goddess named Anput who's going to be mad that Sadie took her man, yes?" Carter's eyes studied his face expressionlessly. "Right, Anubis?"

He weakly nodded before softly uttering, "Yes." His mind was beginning to spin. _ The perfumed incense of the temple smog clung to her olive skin, as well as the faint scent of vanilla. The bracelets that decorated her delicate arms and legs jangled as she rushed to greet him._

"So there was no Anput?" Carter asked, one last time to confirm.

"No."

Carter's eyes raised as his face hardened. "Who was she then and how or why is she connected to you?" he inquired, his voice dripping with suspicion, like the dew on the leaves at day's dawn.

Anubis fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair and sorrow softened his long face's features. "I don't want to talk about this, about her," he barked, yet at the end it more resembled a whine.

Carter only leaned closer and persistently repeated his question, "Who was she?" _Who was she? Who was she…_

_Her blue eyes playfully reprimanded his. "You're late," she hissed, with a voice that could shame any songbird. _

_He chuckled. "I'm sorry. He knelt upon the temple's marble floor and held his hands up to her in a pleading gesture. "Forgive me, please Anput. The Hall of Judgment had many souls to weigh this day."_

_She knelt in front of him and wrapped her arms about his shoulders and murmured, "Osiris has 40 other gods to do his bidding, surely he could let you go an hour early."_

_Anubis mournfully shook his head. "Alas, Anput, I'm their overseer, remember?"_

_Anput placed her forehead against his own and sighed. "I remember."_

_He twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers lovingly. "No goddess can compare to your beauty, my love," he murmured, kissing her neck. She sighed contentedly._

"_You shouldn't say such things," she severely chided._

_He laughed and passionately kissed her lips. "I can say such things; I am a god, after all."_

_Anput pushed him away. "And I'm not, remember. I'm at the gods' mercy," she solemnly stated._

_He pulled her face back to his. "Then let me make you my wife."_

_She wistfully smiled. "You know I'm not the one stopping you," she gently replied._

_He nodded. "I know," he whispered in return. _But he hadn't known as he now knew sitting opposite Carter.

"Anubis, I asked you who was she?" Carter harshly repeated.

He frowned. "She was my first love. I'm 5,000 years old; I'm allowed to have loved another girl before, yes?"

"Yes," Carter gruffly allowed, "I suppose so." Carter reflected silently for a moment upon his response. "So what was she like? I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Anubis interjected. He solemnly paused before giving his reply. "She was a priestess in the temple of Ra in the Seventeenth Nome."

"Ra?" Carter raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know," Anubis commented.

"It's just I never considered that a priestess of Ra to be your taste," Carter explained.

"They're not, it was only her that I was interested by." Only her, until Sadie he hadn't bothered looking at any other girl. He hadn't been happy, truly blissfully happy until that night at the movies when he first met Marisol.

Carter's eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to understand. "If you loved her then, uh, if you don't mind my asking, what happened to her?"

Anubis dismally sighed. "She died."

Carter leaned back in his chair and tried to come up with the proper thing to say. "Look, uh, Anubis I'm—"

"Please, don't. You never knew her. She is only a name to you, practically nothing."

"How, how did she die?"

"The other gods took her from me," Anubis coldly answered.

Carter frowned, "In what way?"

"There was prince who had tried to court her, but Anput only had eyes for me," at this Carter scoffed, "and after his seventh failed attempt he decided if she would not be his, then she would not be mine, and so he murdered her and…"

"And?" Carter urged.

"Our daughter." She had been only two when she died.

A thought seemed to occur to Carter just then and he sputtered, "Wait, you're a death god, couldn't you resurrect her and make her a goddess or something like that?"

There was a long silence before Anubis found it in himself to answer. "That's how they took her from me."

"No…"

"No tomb, no corpses even. Just gone. Her soul never came to the Hall of Judgment and when I looked for her on the banks of the River of the Night among the other lost souls she was not there," Anubis bitterly spat.

Carter tapped his fingers on the top of the his study's wooden desk as he quietly pondered. "What was the prince's name?"

Anubis's eyes narrowed in anger as he snarled, "Khaemwaset."

"Setne," Carter uttered amidst several cursers, both modern and ancient. Carter glanced at Anubis, his eyes still suspicious but thawing. "You may go, that's all I wanted to know."

Anubis nodded and left the study without another word. Sadie was waiting beside the door for him. "What did Carter want?" she inquired frankly.

He sighed, he wasn't quite up to answering Sadie's questions at the moment. "Sadie…"

"If he was trying to convince you…"

"Sadie, I'm going home," he stated, not caring if she heard him over the sound of her own voice or not.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you, Death Boy. What were you and my brother chatting about? Did he try to give you that talk? Or was he threatening you like if you ever leave me or hurt me he's going to pound your pathetic ar—"

Anubis sighed, before turning around to face his fiancé. "Dear, I'm going home," he said, making sure to clearly enunciate every letter in each word.

"And my questions?" Sadie demanded.

Anubis smiled, before kissing her forehead. "Tell your brother he can tell you everything I told him. If you have any questions I'll answer them tomorrow."

Sadie rolled her eyes and grudgingly nodded, but as he made to leave she stopped him and pulled him to her for tender embrace, contentedly whispering into his ear, "Did I mention that I'm really happy with this, with…_us_."

"Me too, he gently murmured. In truth he wasn't. He wasn't, so why was he going through with this. The glittering hope of a future spent together that gleamed in Sadie's eyes, why didn't, couldn't he imagine that with her? Why did he stay? Then it hit him, he knew. He broke the rules with Anput. Sadie, she could be made a goddess, not like Anput, so she would be tolerated, not like Anput. He went beyond the boundaries with Anput, but Sadie was just safely within those borders. But then, what about Marisol? If Anput had been deemed unworthy, what was Marisol? What danger had he put her in?

Yet all the same, like most nights he found himself at Marisol's door, he tucked Roselle into bed, and ended the night next to Marisol in her bed. Shouldn't he had learned his lesson with Anput?


	5. Dawn

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

Marisol's eyes drowsily meandered over to the digital alarm clock that sat smugly upon her squat bedside table. 7:05, the clock's face arrogantly jeered. The sun's gloating rays filtered through the closed window blinds as the city below proved that it had already been awake for hours. Pigeons cooed, cars aggressively honked in their haste, and the noise that came from the start of the of the morning rush invaded her ears. She rolled over to find that the other half of the bed was empty.

Tentatively she left the comfort of the covers and slipped a sleek robe over herself, tying it loosely as she walked out of her bedroom. She found him at the dining table just staring out at the city below. The skin under his eyelids was a dusky purple, he had obviously been up for a while and hadn't gotten much sleep during the night. He was quiet and his expression blank when he turned to look towards her.

She sweetly smiled, but he only sighed dismally. His morose thoughts kept him. Hesitantly she strolled over to him, so that she stood just in front of him. His lovely deep chocolate eyes met hers and she understood. "Not even for Roselle?" she softly asked. Her eyes had begun to water.

Anubis shook his head. "Not even for Roselle," he coldly refrained.

"She won't understand."

He swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm marrying Sadie," he firmly responded as though convincing himself.

Marisol nodded. "I know."

He stood and took her face in his hands, one last time, before gently pressing his lips against hers. "I'm sorry, Marisol," Anubis whispered, his voice doused in longing and sorrow. He left without another word.

As the door clicked shut Marisol skulked back to her bedroom and closed the door before lying back down on the bed. The crazed tears and frenzied sobs escaped without protest. She lacked the strength to stop herself from being lost to the pain that consumed her so. She loved him, and he loved her. She was the mother of his child; he was supposed to be hers. No, she bleakly remembered. He was supposed to be Sadie's and she…she was his inconvenient mistake. An unfortunate mistake that now it seemed he had decided to leave to the concluded past.


	6. Where were you?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Sorry for not updating lately, I had finals. The grades so far are good, still waiting on two exam results, though. Happy summer vacation to all who are out now, and sorry to all those who suffer from added days to the school calendar because of the extra snow days.**

By the time Anubis finally had the nerve to show his handsome face, Sadie had already dialed more than half the numbers in her address book, which wasn't skinny either, be assured. It did have to fit the numbers of all her friends, the past occupants of Brooklyn House who moved onto college elsewhere, as well as the emergency numbers of the leaders of all the other nomes. She was mid-dial, about to call Marisol, when she heard the door open and him enter. Her thumb pressed the end button as she hastily hung up. "Where were you?" Sadie fiercely demanded.

"What?" Anubis inquired in that charming manner of his. Mocking innocence, figures he would attempt that.

"I asked where were you," she angrily snarled.

"At home, like I told you last night," he easily answered. Lying dog.

"No, no you weren't." The coolness he always maintained faltered for just a moment before returning back to its former mysterious façade. "I asked for my dad to put you on the phone but he said you hadn't returned to your rooms, or to the Land of the Dead, for that matter."

Anubis casually smiled and coyly stepped closer to her. "So," his lips teased her, "I had some business to take care of."

"Uh-huh. Why don't you tell me where you actually were?" Though, her blue eyes held little love at the moment for him, Anubis nonetheless ran a hand lovingly through her blue streaked hair. He lowered his head and kissed her lips with a passion he hadn't had for her in at least a year. Sadie felt her anger melt has she returned the kiss, wrapping her arms snugly around his neck as she felt herself pulled closer to him. However, her anger wasn't going to be that promptly evaded and she forcefully pushed him away from her. "Oh, no you don't. You're not going to distract me that easily," Sadie scowled.

Anubis carefully divided a lock of her hair before wrapping it through his fingers. "Did I mention how beautiful you are when you're arguing?" he suavely asked.

Butterflies fluttered in Sadie's stomach as her eyes met his, every time she saw him was like the first. She lost any form of verbal communication and logic when his brown eyes focused on her, only her. So perfect, yet…so infuriating.

If he wasn't going to bend that way she would simply have to change her strategy. Her eyelids dropped as she daintily batted her eyelashes while her lips frowned in a pout. "What's so bad that you won't tell me?" she whined.

Anubis shook his head and softly chuckled. "Oh, Sadie, don't worry about it. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is you," he softly pecked her lips before concluding, "and me."

A rosy blush painted her cheeks as she stupidly smiled, the words 'you and me' repeating themselves over and over in her head like a harmonic orchestra. She sighed. "I guess I'll let it go," Sadie grudgingly conceded.

He kissed her forehead, as if she was a small child. "I thank you for that, Sadie."

That pout turned back into her all too familiar smirk. "But," she severely warned, a finger pointed at his chest, "only this one time, understood?"

He eagerly nodded. "Of course, dear." She smiled, happy with his response. He let his forehead rest against hers as he murmured, "So how does breakfast sound? We could discuss what I had Carter tell you."

Sadie sighed, remorsefully stepping back. "Can't," she casually shrugged. "I'm already previously engaged with another for breakfast this fine morning."

Anubis's eyes widened as he stared at her in disbelief. "Who?" he sputtered in blatant outrage.

Sadie devilishly smiled, "What's it to you, Mr. I'm-too-hot-for-anyone-to-know-my-whereabouts."

He snorted before grabbing her face, firmly holding it in-between his hands. "Everything," he whispered in return, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I made plans with Lacy when I called her asking if she possibly knew where you were," Sadie smartly replied.

"Figures," he commented, annoyance heavy in his tone.

"We'll talk later. Be there when I call, got it, Death Boy." He solemnly nodded.

As Sadie entered the restaurant where Lacy and she had agreed to meet, the phone in her pocket began to urgently vibrate. By instinct she instantly reached for it and checked the number. Pressing the talk button, she said, "Hey, Lace. Something the matter?" It sounded like someone was sobbing in the background. It was probably one of those soap operas Lace was so particularly fond off.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to have to cancel on breakfast, Sade," Lacy replied. There were definitely sobs on the other side of the line, but they didn't sound like they were from a TV show.

"Where are you?"

"Marisol's," Lacy softly returned.

"Is that Marisol crying?" Sadie asked, rather confused. Marisol had been her usual happy self last night when she had called her.

"Yeah," Lace confirmed. "She's in…well she's not doing well." Sadie nodded to herself, her brows deeply furrowed in puzzlement.

"I'll be there in ten, Lace," Sadie informed her kind friend as she snapped her cell phone shut. She cast a dismal look at the hostess who had been waiting for her. "Sorry, something's come up. I'm afraid I'll be heading," she crisply stated to the restaurant employee. The hostess irritably sighed and turned her attention to the next person in line.


	7. Did she just?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Please review, I honestly would like to know what people think of this story. **

It was Lace who opened Marisol's door to let her in. "You didn't have to come, Sadie. I mean I'm glad that you came but…"

"But?" Sadie asked as she readily showed herself into Marisol's flat.

"I don't think Marisol wants to see you. I mean she barely wants me here," Lacy carefully explained, doing her best to tread around Sadie's temper.

"What? Why wouldn't she want me here? We've been friends since BAG. I was there for her when she was pregnant," Sadie argued. There wasn't any logical reason why Marisol wouldn't want her here that Sadie could think of.

Lacy didn't have to answer because just then the soft high-pitched voice of Marisol's young daughter warily asked, "Why is Mama crying?" Roselle still wore her Disney Princess pajamas as her favorite doll hung limply from her tiny fist.

"Roselle," Lacy squeaked. "Umm… I rather hoping you knew, darling."

The child frowned. Roselle quietly scanned the flat before asking, "Where's daddy? He usually stays until I wake up."

Sadie's and Lacy's eyes went wide. Sadie hesitantly glanced toward Lacy. "Did she just…?"Sadie pondered aloud.

Lacy nodded.

"But I didn't…"

"Me neither."

"So she's been in contact with the father all these years and never mentioned that fact to us," Sadie bitterly summarized.

"Pretty much," Marisol answered from her bedroom's doorframe. Sadie bit her lip. Marisol's hair was bedraggled and she wore only a loose robe. Her cheeks were red from crying.

"You could've told us," Lacy sweetly commented.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have minded a few words with the pig that knocked you up," Sadie brashly remarked.

Marisol frowned sadly and disappeared back into her rooms, where the sound of muffled sobs soon slipped though the doorway. Lacy exasperatedly glanced at Sadie stating, "Perhaps you could try a little more tact. I just managed to get her to stop her crying half an hour ago."

"Sorry," Sadie shrugged. "I wasn't aware it would set her off again."

Lacy sighed. "I'll go comfort her. Just watch the kid, okay?"

Reluctantly she nodded, "Fine." Lacy promptly nodded and disappeared after Marisol, leaving Sadie alone with Roselle.

Roselle already had spread out on the couch, turning the TV on to Disney Channel. Sadie forced a smile as she sweetly asked, "So what are we watching, Ro?"

"Roselle, it's Roselle," the kid venomously spat.

Sadie paused, a bit taken back by the child's slightly aggressive response. "Um, sorry."

"No you're not."

Sadie plopped down on the couch next to the runt. "Okay, kid. I don't think—"

"Shut up." Roselle even avoided looking at her, like she was the messy room that a parent tells their kid to clean.

Sadie's brow furrowed in frustrated confusion. "Do you not—" she started only to be cut off curtly by the young girl.

"I hate you," Roselle firmly stated.

Sadie gaped. "Well that's rude. Hasn't Marisol taught you any manners?"

The kid had the nerve to smirk.

Speechless, Sadie slumped back into the cushiony comfort of the couch. She couldn't very well curse at or name-call the daughter of one of her best friends. That didn't stop curiosity from burning in the back of her throat as she watch Sofia the First, though. Her eyes flickered back and forth between the TV screen and the little brat. Something about the kid's face had always bothered Sadie, mostly because the girl seemed to look a lot like the kid's father. Roselle had dark, almost black wavy curls, that didn't match the golden auburn locks that her mother possessed. The child's eyes were brown, a lot like Anubis's now that she thought about it, and the opposite of Marisol's blue irises. Not to mention the child had seriously pale skin.

"Stop that," Roselle irritably chided.

"What?"

"You know what?" the girl retorted.

"No, I don't!" Sadie exclaimed. In the back of her mind she groaned and reprimanded herself. She was arguing with a five year old. Roselle was five, right? Or was it six? Ugh… it's not like it mattered, at the end of the day she's would still be a little girl. She was going to get married soon, and someday she was going to have to deal with her own children's tantrums, and instead of learning how to interact with kids now, she was nearly screaming at one. How pathetic.

"Looking at me like that," the child whined.

"Like what?"

"Like…like you did," Roselle babbled.

Sadie rolled her eyes before throwing a glance towards Marisol's room. She could still hear faint sobs leaking through the walls and Lacy's attempts to comfort their friend. It made sense Lacy was the one comforting her, she knew Marisol better. Lacy had introduced them, after all.

"Whatever, kid," Sadie conceded. It wasn't worth her time to fight with an immature rotten brat. That one question still bugged her, though, and so she turned to Roselle and calmly asked, "Why do you hate me?"

Roselle glared at her. "I don't know, just do," the young girl harshly muttered.

Sadie sighed and detached her butt from the comfortable couch cushions. She silently crept towards Marisol's door, curiously glancing inside. Marisol was on the floor, tears still pouring from the corners of her eyes. Sadie vaguely recalled her hatred for the girl Marisol had been. Marisol was Lacy's age but had been in Sadie's grade. She had transferred to BAG in eighth grade… immediately adopted by Drew and her goonies, for some inexplicable reason she had soon became Drew's conniving understudy.

The first day of eighth grade, it was the art room. Sadie was chatting with one of the other girl's in her grade, who just happened to be sitting beside her, when it came to her attention that a group of Drew's goonies were giggling like fiends all the while throwing pointed looks at her throughout the entire hour. Madame Beccaria had decided on painting for their first assignment of the year and so naturally at the end of the hour one of Drew's robot's had befouled her combat boots with leftover paint from her palate. The new girl with auburn curls and blue eyes. A war of insults, pranks, and slights began that day between them. The girl's apologetic performance had Madame Beccaria believing every last word, even Sadie caught herself almost believing it, though, she knew better. Marisol had done it on purpose, and thus the detention for her fist colliding with Marisol's pretty little face had completely worth it. By the end of eighth grade Marisol was in a prime position to knock Drew out of her top spot as most the despicable human being on the planet. That of course was before she truly met Marisol that day when she surprise visited Lacy and found the two splayed out of the floor watching some ancient horror flick.

_The girl laughing at the awful special effects presented by the gory film scene nearly choked on the popcorn she had been guzzling. Their eyes met and Sadie knew the girl was caught in a spot that meant things couldn't carry on as they previously had._

_Lacy started at the sight of Sadie. "Uh, Sade…what are you doing here?" Lacy asked in that obvious high-pitched manner that reveals someone had just walked in on something they were not supposed to have seen._

_Sadie casually shrugged and answered, "Thought we could hang out, you and I." Marisol fidgeted nervously, clearly noting the emphasis placed on that last word. "Better question," Sadie glared at Marisol as she uttered in disgust, "What is she doing here?"_

_Both Lacy and Marisol were speechless. Tentative glances toward the other revealed their struggle to accurately explain the situation. Neither spoke, so impatiently Sadie demanded, "Well? What's it I'm not supposed to know?"_

_Lacy gulped. "Uh…" she faintly murmured, "Marisol, uh, she's my friend."_

_Sadie's eyes went wide as her jaw fell into a deep scowl. "Why?" she exclaimed in puzzlement. "Marisol's the enemy, Drew's minion. She's been a total b***h to both of us. She destroyed our history project last November, or have you forgotten?"_

_Marisol sighed. "You've have a point, but I'm afraid it's not that black and white, hon," the girl calmly stated, wearing a hesitant smile._

_Sadie raised one brow. "Really, do go on?"_

_It was Lacy who answered. "You know that gossip column in the school paper."_

_Sadie nodded._

"_It's a joint project between me…and Marisol," Lacy explained._

_What had already been unimaginable seemed to only grow more complicated. "Okay," Sadie muttered. It still wasn't really okay. "But, uh, why with her? I mean you could've asked me to help," she bitterly remarked._

"_Because we've been best friends since diapers. In seventh grade we came up with the idea for the column and figured that we'd cover more ground if we split up, so we faked a huge fight after I transferred. Lacy joined with the outcasts. She had the braces, and well she's pretty darn nice. I took the popular crowd. I've always liked a challenge and had the cunning to play Drew's game. Even Drew doesn't know we're behind the column," Marisol nonchalantly reflected._

_Sadie's mouth had gradually fallen open during the girl's explanation. She blankly blinked a dozen times rotating her stare from Lacy to Marisol. Eyes resting on Lacy, Sadie angrily whined, "And you didn't think to include me in on this delightful plot?" Lacy sighed in gracious relief, though she shot a fleet glance toward Marisol, a glance that silently shouted their reason._

_Marisol laughed. "We…" she paused, pondering the diction choice that would be least likely to get her killed, "didn't think you could keep a secret." Sadie laughed. Loudly and gleefully as she reflected upon the secret life she would never tell Lacy or any of her other normal mortal friends at school (excluding Liz and Emma, of course). It was funny that these two went to such lengths to keep the miniscule issue of a gossip column secret when she kept the ginormous secret of the House of Life and Egypt's gods hush._

_Grabbing the bowl of popcorn from Marisol, she contentedly sat beside the girl, who hours earlier had been her enemy. Now she was an equal, well only on school terms. After all, Sadie had been the eye of a god while Marisol still was only a human. "So…all of it was an act?" A mischievous glimmer shone in that girl's eyes as she curtly nodded. "Impressive," Sadie murmured._

"_Now that you know our secret, I'll be nicer next year. I actually wouldn't mind it if we became friends. You have a few admirable traits, I'll grant you that," Marisol remarked._

_Sadie snorted. "Likewise. But don't be nicer, cause I'm definitely not going to be. Let's make it quite the performance, my dear. We can expose all of Drew's dirty secrets while we're at it."_

_Marisol's easy smile lit up her face. "Sounds like fun." _However, she was nicer next year. She fell out of Drew's favor.

Returning to the present Sadie solemnly watched her friend sob. She sighed before loudly declaiming, grabbing the attention of the two on the floor, "I'm going. Anubis and I have something that needs discussing. I'll call you both later."

Marisol momentarily seemed to pull herself together, wiping the tears away with the sleeve of her robe. She licked her chapped lips and made to speak, but words came with difficulty. "It was kind of you to come," her brokenhearted friend meekly thanked.

"It's nothing," Sadie commented, taking her leave from the flat.

Marisol waited until the door closed behind Sadie before taking a deep shaky breath and turning to Lacy. She sniffled. "Thanks for pretending you didn't know," Marisol sweetly murmured. Lacy's steady hand placed itself firmly on Marisol's shoulder in an assuring gesture.

"It's better she doesn't know. So…it's over."

Marisol weakly nodded.

Lacy sighed. "It should've never happened."

"Yeah, then we'd actually be happy for her," sadness tainted each syllable, showing Marisol's disgust for only herself.

Lacy hugged her dear friend. "Do you think you'll be okay?" she asked, already seeing the answer in her friend's eyes.

Marisol frowned. "No, but I'll do what I've always done, act like I am."


	8. Dresses and Phone Calls

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Please enjoy reading this and if you want, review. **

_Two months later…_

A date had already been picked and the wedding planning was in full swing as Sadie met with her bridesmaids at a bridal shop, well most of them, Liz and Emma were still in England. Lacy arrived early, eager to start looking at dresses. Zia and Sadie got there just on time while Marisol shrugged off being thirty minutes late on account of she had to drop the kid off at her parents' place.

"So how about this?" Lacy asked, holding up a knee-length pale orange dress that dripped with lace.

Sadie shook her head, "No. I was thinking violet. Orange wouldn't be a color all of you could pull off."

Lacy shrugged and hung the dress back on the rack. "Dark or light?" she asked, taking into consideration the drastic affects both shades had on ones appearance, with different accessories, make up, and even hair color.

"Umm…in-between, so no lavender, but not so dark that it looks black," Sadie replied with the nick-picky selectiveness that brides often possess.

While Sadie and Lacy delved deeper in the racks in search of the perfect bridesmaids' dress, Zia quietly strolled over to where Marisol was standing. "How's your daughter?" Zia politely inquired.

Marisol jumped and curiously glanced around behind her. "You're speaking to me?"

Zia nodded, a small laugh hiding in her smile.

"Oh, okay. Umm… Roselle's good." Marisol stopped and angrily shook her head. "Actually, she isn't. She's been in a funk ever since her dad left," Marisol bluntly replied not with anger but instead with dazed disbelief that he truly was gone.

Zia shifted uncomfortably. The honest openness that Marisol had a habit of using had always been rather unnerving to her. "Well that's a shame. I can't for the life of me see how any man could be idiotic enough to leave you and Roselle." She honestly couldn't. Marisol was more than decently pretty, as well as overly accepting and honest, not to mention the girl was just so darn nice. Though, she did remember a few of Sadie's stories that painted the girl in a light that wasn't too flattering.

Marisol uneasily shrugged. "Yeah, he wasn't too happy either." There was a brief silence before Marisol continued. "There was another girl. His family likes her, and he doesn't want to let them down."

Zia sympathetically placed a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "He's not worthy of you."

The girl softly chuckled, "Maybe, but I still…" her voice caught. "I still love him." Zia saw the raw pain in her eyes that fought back tears. Marisol took a deep breath to calm herself before turning to look at Zia. "You didn't come over here to talk about my messed up life, though. So…"

Zia had to admit the girl was no idiot, or so self-absorbed she didn't think of anything that didn't involve her. Zia shook her head. "No, I'll admit I didn't. I wanted to speak with you about your pregnancy because I'm…" She lightly placed a hand over her stomach.

Marisol face was already avidly lit up by a big grin. "Pregnant," she merrily finished. Zia excitably nodded.

"Congratulations," Marisol said, giving her friend's sister-in-law a quick hug. "Have you told Carter yet?" she keenly inquired.

Zia took a deep breath and tentatively shook her head. "No, not yet, but I'm going to tonight. I can't wait to see his expression."

Marisol jovially nodded. "Well, he'll either faint or go into baby-proofing the apartment mode. Either way I'm sure he'll be ecstatic."

Zia laughed. "How did Roselle's father react?" she solemnly asked.

The girl's smile faltered. "Uh… he…took it well, all things considered."

Zia's amber eyes rolled as she asked, "What things?"

From Marisol's face, Zia could tell this wasn't a favorite conversation topic of hers. She looked at Zia and decisively stated, "Let's just go with I'm an awful person."

Zia's brow frowned as she protested, "No, no, no, Marisol, you're a wonderful person."

Marisol's eyes bore into hers as she firmly replied, "No, no I'm not."

"Marisol—"

"He had a girlfriend."

Zia stopped. She started to speak but quickly decided against it and fled the awkward conversation, joining Sadie, who was looking through a row of the racks near the back wall.

Two hours later they had found a dress that all the girls could agree on and Sadie had started trying on bridal gowns. Then Zia's cellphone rang and she reported that Carter had something urgent to speak of with Sadie and her. Thus, the group split. Sadie and Zia headed back to Brooklyn House while Lacy and Marisol decided to head to Marisol's flat for lunch.

The door clicked shut behind Lacy as Marisol headed to the bathroom. "I'll be out in a few minutes," she stated as she ducked inside the powder room.

Lacy shrugged and made to sit down on the couch when the phone in the study began to suddenly ring. Lacy figured since Marisol was occupied she ought to answer it.

"Hello," she sweetly said into the receiver.

A raspy voice testily answered her, "Where is it?"

"What?"

"You know what, girl. Don't pretend you don't. Now tell me, where is it? You know the price if you don't," the voice vehemently hissed. The line went dead.

All Lacy felt was confused. She started pondering whether Marisol had gotten any other calls like that one, and if so for how long. She knew that Marisol's dad was in business, but now she was wondering, what kind of business?

"Lace, what are you doing in here?" Marisol stood in the doorway. Her kind smile rapidly turned into a worried frown. "What's wrong?"

Lacy fretfully glanced towards the girl she had thought she knew. "Your dad's business…" she softly began.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Is it illegal?" her voice was barely louder than that of a whisper.

Marisol's mouth fell open as her eyes became wide. She hastily shook her head. "Whoa, babe, you mean like drugs and human trafficking?" Lacy nodded. "Hell, no. Da and I are not like that. Sure we have our fair share of questionable moments, but nothing like that. Why would you think that?"

Lacy placed the phone back in its holder, realizing it was tightly clenched in her hand. Marisol saw. "Oh," she softly murmured, "that?"

"Yeah, that," Lacy repeated. Her eyes were wide, like those of a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

Marisol sharply closed the door to the study. "We should talk about that." Her shoulders slumped as she stared forlornly at the black and red Native American looking rug that ornamented the floor. The call was connected to a part of Marisol's life that had been kept isolated deep inside her in a place of sorrow and despair. In vain she had hoped that questions would never be raised, but she should've known better. It's not like fate had ever been on her side.

"We should," Lacy warily agreed.

"Lacy, you can't tell anyone, not even Sadie, though it involves her. It actually involves quite a few people we know," Marisol stated, Lacy couldn't tell whether it was desperation or fear that fueled her plea.

"I won't tell," Lacy promised.

"I know." Marisol motioned for her to take a seat. "I wouldn't risk telling you if I didn't think you were capable of biting your tongue."

"Why not?" Lacy asked as she settled into the armchair that rested in front of the study's desk.

Marisol frowned dolefully. "Because I don't want to have to kill a good friend. Though, trust me if I have to I won't hesitate."

Lacy saw it in her eyes. She wasn't lying. Marisol didn't want to hurt her, but whatever it was Marisol was protecting she was more than prepared to kill for it. She was prepared to die for it. Though, she heard the boding in her friend's voice she was already too close to not ask and so Lacy implored, "Tell me."

Marisol gracefully took the seat opposite the chair Lacy sat in. "Just remember you asked me to." That afternoon Marisol told Lacy everything about herself. Lacy knew in the fraught silence that followed Marisol's words that she would never look at Sadie in the same way again.


	9. Simone Durand

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews, nicosnowangelo and IbeCrazy. I really appreciate the feedback. Please continue to enjoy the story and I hope you're having a good day wherever you are because I am. IHOP and Barnes and Noble, oh life's so very good. **

They found Carter outside his bedroom on the balcony gravely staring into the oily contents of the scrying bowl, though the conversation had long since ended upon their arrival. His eyes were hard and bloodshot while his tall frame stood frigid, as his worrisome thoughts ate at him. It hadn't been because of a minor disturbance that he had interrupted their bridal shopping. Something very serious had occurred in their absence.

Zia's eyes softened in concern as she noted the serious demeanor of her husband. "Carter?" she gently murmured.

Though his eyes rose to meet hers his mind was elsewhere. "Yes, Zia?"

"What's happened?" Zia inquired, the worry in her tone crescendoing.

Carter's fists tightened as hate simmered beneath his brown eyes. "Setne was spotted," he hostilely answered. Zia froze, but Sadie couldn't have looked more eager, well she could've of, if it had involved Anubis.

"Where?" Sadie pressed.

"Chicago," Carter solemnly answered.

Zia noticeably gasped. "Were they…?" she began.

Carter somberly looked at his love and nodded, "I'm afraid so, dear."

"But it's not like them to get involved. Unless…" Zia frowned. "What would bring them out; though, they're not frightened by much?"

Carter despondently shrugged his shoulders. "That's what I've been wondering. It's unlike them to bring public attention to themselves nowadays."

Eyes darting from her brother to his wife Sadie diligently watched as the conversation progressed, yet she understood nothing. She didn't know who the heck they were talking about, or why they were able to cause Carter and Zia to react in such a frazzled manner. "Uh," Sadie loudly began.

Zia's and Carter's heads turned to look at her, and Carter irritably asked, "Yes, Sadie?"

"Would you two geeks please inform me on exactly who it is we're speaking of. Excuse me, but I'm afraid I don't know what's the big fuss is all about…well, actually I just don't know what's we're talking about in general," Sadie commented.

Shaking his head Carter dismally suggested to the company, "I think we ought to discuss this in the study. This is a talk better suited for sitting down."

"Lovely, I haven't had the chance to sit all day," Sadie amicably agreed.

And so the group of three settled themselves comfortably in Carter's study so to continue the discussion. With his back straight and feet flat on the floor Carter allowed his elbows to rest on the desktop as he began a conversation he had long since hoped he would never be in the position of having to explain to his sister. "So," the words didn't come to him easily, after all it wasn't the simplest subject to explain. Sadie, already being as impossible as she was, didn't help matters much.

"So…" Sadie urged him on. She had other places she'd rather be then in a study being schooled by her older brother, such as that date Anubis had promised her later that day. He was going to take her to a movie, of her choosing her course. Him, being a gentleman, of course, the perfect dear. But alas, for the moment she was stuck in her brother's study, and thus figured she probably ought to make an attempt to listen to him explain whatever it was that he was so irked by since it seemed like it could be rather important.

"Umm…you remember Moses, yes?" Carter asked.

Okay maybe she didn't spend every free moment with her nose stuck in a book or at a museum, but she wasn't that dumb. "Of course, I do, Carter, dear. Everyone knows who Moses was," Sadie angrily remarked.

He leaned as far back in his chair as he could get from her fierce insulted glare. "Sorry, just wanted to make sure. Anyway, like you were told once he was the only magician not from the House of Life to win a fight against the House; however that doesn't mean he was the only magician ever to oppose the House," Carter explained, hoping his sister was able to grasp the profoundness of this statement and all the liabilities it carried.

Sadie only rolled her eyes, "Well of course, brother dear, remember Jacobi and Kwai."

Carter sighed and shook his head. She didn't understand. "No Sadie, I meant magicians from outside the House."

Her smug persona faltered. "But…" she started to protest.

"No, there isn't any debate. There's other things on this planet that don't involve us, no that's not right, ugh, how do I say this." He swallowed and took a breath to organize his thoughts. "Alright, how about this, there some things that just don't belong to anything and we call those things rogue. Yes, we also call magicians who've turned away from the House and continue their work in self-exile rogues as well, but they're not what worries. It's the other beings, some human-like while others aren't even close, that worry us the most. Many of these beings wield magic; types of magic the House either doesn't know or can't comprehend. These rogues are random in their strategy as far as we are able to tell, but they tend to live close to one another. Chicago is a great example of this; it practically belongs to the rogues; the population of rogues there is higher than any other city on the planet."

"Why Chicago?" Sadie inquired. "I mean there's London, Paris, New York, Boston, as well of a bunch of other cities to choose from. What's so special about Chicago?"

Zia and Carter lacked an adequate response. Placing a soft hand on Sadie's shoulder Zia answered, "We don't know. The House does know that rogues migrated heavily to the United States to evade prosecution for what they were in their old lands. I almost pity them because all they that wanted to was leave us, and we wouldn't let them and thus followed them to this country. I honestly know why Chicago was chosen, but after years of watching the city we've come to a few conclusions concerning the rogues. They exist in close family clans, and we knew that the clans fought frequently amongst themselves for centuries until about a thousand years ago, when the rogues just went quiet. They dissolved into the shadows and stayed there. However, there are a few big names that have business concerning with the rogues, some big names we believe are actually rogues themselves, though we can't prove it."

"Like who?"

Zia glanced towards Carter to see if she had permission. He shook his head; his eyes silently explaining to his wife that the line was too thin to be crossed and Sadie couldn't handle all that they knew quite yet. "It's best you don't know, Sadie," Zia calmly replied.

Carter cleared his throat to draw the attention in the room back to himself. "At the end of the day most rogues really hate us, and our best estimates of their numbers, though pretty high, can't compare to the numbers of those we don't know. It's been argued that there could be a thousand of them to one magician of the House of Life," Carter summed up.

Sadie understood the last part and what it meant; they had the potential to make a great ally to pit against the House of Life. "So, Setne's trying to get buddy-buddy with them," she inferred.

Dismally Carter shook his head. She couldn't have been farther from the mark. "Nope, they took him prisoner."

"He'll get loose," his little sister muttered, bitterly remembering how the Ribbons of Hathor had failed them.

"We don't know that. We don't know what they're capable of," Carter stiffly murmured in frustration.

"But why would they take him captive? What was he doing for him to warrant such attention?" Zia fervently questioned. Rogues weren't bold enough a people to do with something on this caliber without a really good reason backing their actions. The why was what mattered most when it concerned them, Zia knew.

"No idea. Jacob, you remember him?" Sadie shook her head. "Oh, well he's the leader of the nome in Chicago. Anyway he just said some that irritable rogues supposedly jumped Setne before taking him somewhere off even our maps. He suggested that Setne seemed like he had been looking for something before his capture."

Zia frowned. "What's could Setne be looking for that's important enough they would draw bring attention to themselves?"

Carter leaned back in his chair and silently pondering his wife's question. The answer came to him suddenly. "The same thing he always hungered for."

"And that is?" Sadie impatiently implored.

"Immortality."

The girls glanced uneasily at one another. "And the rogues possess that?" Sadie questioned, her tone heavily drenched in disbelief.

Carter mind was raced as he remembered some papers he gone over a few months back that just might be able to help him prove his argument. "I-I believe that they just might." The girls' gaze intensified. "The House has only ever captured one rogue. She was a small gawky thing as her keepers described, and the records say she died about twenty years ago. The magicians who studied her claimed that she didn't fear death. They also said she had a deep belief rooted in the theory of reincarnation, and ,well, they believed in her."

"And you? What are your thoughts, Carter?" his sister lazily asked, the topic was beginning to bore her and her thoughts had started to turn to her fiancé instead as the minutes dragged closer and closer to the time he had promised to pick her up.

"I…" Carter paused, "I believe she wanted help." The words rung through Zia's and Sadie's minds as his proposal steadily soaked into their minds.

His bewildered sister's eyes met his as she questioned his sentiment, "Help, for what?"

He shook his head; she never got anything until he explained it to her. "Not for, from. The girl claimed that she was cursed to die over and over again as she lived out hundreds of lives. Now, I can see how you're skeptical (Sadie's eyebrow couldn't raise much higher from its current position, nor could her scowl grow any deeper.) but during her interview she was able to speak quite vividly about her past lives, well from the cohesive segments her interviewers were able to piece together. Regrettably her sanity was long gone when they found her. She had been in a mental hospital in Paris for at about seven years before drawing the House's attention."

"Did she say who cursed her?"

"No, she said only why?"

"Well…" Sadie insisted for the explanation.

"She's the only one to know."

"Know what?"

Carter shrugged, finding himself at a loss of what more to say than, "That she didn't say."

"But you think that she knew what Setne wants to know," Zia guessed.

"No, I think Setne wants the girl."

"But you just said she was dead," Sadie sputtered.

"Yes, I did. Simone Durand died on her fifteenth birthday under the watch of Michel Desjardins in the 14th nome in 1997. However, she did say that she was cursed to not just die, but to be born again. So if that's true she would've been reborn. Therefore, we…" Carter excitably explained.

Sadie irritably rolled her eyes. "This is all good and great, but where would we look for the girl?" she stated, pointing out a major flaw in that plan.

"Simone wanted help. She wanted to tell us in her last life, so why wouldn't she have come to us by now? It's been twenty years," Zia stated.

A cold realization came to Carter. "She came to the House of Life while the gods were banished, and now the path of gods is being taught once again. What if…what if she'd rather see us dead than..."

"Assist the gods who cursed her," Zia said, finishing her husband's disheartening theory.


	10. A Night at the Movies pt1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: I apologize for not updating sooner, there's no really good reason for it. I've just been enjoying my summer, running trails and floating on an inner tube in a friend's lake. The water was perfect, too. I've heard predictions that the water won't get warm in the Big Lake until August, pity. Ms. Anon, thanks for your review and I'm glad someone finally brought up the points that you made (namely: Walt, Anubis's ability to go everywhere, and Shu) and I hope this chapter can adequately clear those up, but if you want more clarification by all means feel free to tell me. (I know I won't touch on the Marisol bit, but I'll get there later.)**

**Now for the way this chapter is written, I've decided to split it up into three updates because it's so long. Also I'm sure you've noticed I use italics when it's a flashback, and yes the whole chapter is in italics (until pt.3) because it's a huge flashback. Review if you want; I appreciate all feedback I get. **

_The afternoon was rather quiet at Brooklyn House. Summer was in her peak and many of the trainees had decided to temporally go home to visit their families while Carter had taken Zia out on a date to who knows where. Thus Sadie and Anubis had the living room, more importantly the flat-screen TV, to themselves. Sadie had leisurely stretched out on the couch, her legs comfortably resting atop Anubis's lap. He had indifferently agreed to watch this vampire movie because it was what Sadie wanted to do, but now he was bitterly regretting the decision. _

_From the start he was confused on why teenage girls were such huge fans of this ridiculous romance, and his mood only dropped as the movie sluggishly progressed. He didn't dismiss the idea of the existence of vampires, but he couldn't help but feel that it was unlikely that a vampire would limit themselves to the blood of wild animals and that their skin shines like diamonds. However, Sadie seemed to quite enjoy it and he didn't want to disappoint her. He was pretty sure that was it; though, it could have also been he didn't want to listen to her argue for the rest of the day (possibly week, maybe month) about how it was a perfectly excellent movie, and so when she asked for his opinion he gave her the kindest truthful response he could think of, "It was quite something." He just hoped his smile didn't look too fake._

_Sadie sat up far enough that she was adequately able to lean over and softly pecked his left cheek. "I'm glad you liked it because there's a sequel," she exultantly related._

_He nodded, coolly commenting, "Awesome," though, his insides were shrieking for gracious mercy. The optimistic side of him (that he hadn't known he possessed) reasoned the sequel had to be better, but since optimism wasn't really a normal thing for him it wasn't much of a surprise that it failed him. Anubis guessed that if he hadn't been born a jackal-headed god, or just a canine-headed god in general, it probably wouldn't had bothered him as much, but alas he was the jackal-headed god of funerals and so the sequel copiously offended him. You see it had werewolves. Werewolves that went around shirtless (with great abs, mind you) jumping off cliffs and imprinting on girls, some of who were just toddlers. Now sure he had great abs, but he wasn't about to go around shirtless, the ogling stares from the opposite gender he got whenever he took Sadie out on a date already freaked him out more than a little bit. He didn't even dare ponder what would happen if he'd taken his shirt off. As for the jumping off cliffs, not only was that reckless he had too much work in the Hall of Judgment to participate in such folly. As for girls, he had Sadie, and though he had immediately been drawn to her he wouldn't say it was love at first sight. It had taken him a few months of thoughts for him to figure out his exact feelings for her. _

_She had brought joy back to his life, and her admirable spunk and spirit made her all the more alluring. Sadie was pretty, but not the prettiest yet, though, she showed signs of becoming quite a beauty in just a few years. Sure, she was annoying a few times, okay, maybe more than a few times, but he didn't mind. He loved her. Sure__, maybe love was a strong word for so early in their relationship, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure of it. He loved Sadie Kane. What he had for Anput had come from the lust that accompanied youthfulness as well as the high resulting from rule breaking, he was sure of it. What he had for Sadie, was the true love kind, the one that lasted forever, even with all the inane overdrawn fights and tedious outings that were made alright just because you're together. That's why when Sadie cuddled up next to him and whispered, "I'm luckier than Bella, can you guess why?" he was content. It didn't matter how stupid the film had been, he had spent the afternoon with her, and so was the luckiest person in the world._

_He good-naturedly shook his head, playing along. "Why?" he mirthfully murmured._

_Sadie flashed a teasing smile before softly kissing his nose. "Because I have you, and you're Edward and Jacob rolled into one." He tried not to scowl. Being compared to a werewolf and a blood sucking vampire, gee, what a lovely compliment; though, outwardly he serenely smiled._

_Returning his smile Sadie eagerly leaned in to kiss him. Anubis held her to him and several minutes passed in this way, neither noticing the ticking of the passing time. When the kiss broke and their noses remained only a centimeter apart, Sadie dared to make an inquiry: "So, I was wondering if you would be willing to meet a couple of my friends?"_

_With that adorable cuteness of his Anubis tilted his head sideways as he matter-of-factly stated, "I've met your friends."_

_Softly chuckling, she smartly remarked, "Yeah, Liz and Emma when we were being chased by a crazy vulture goddess and her rabid baboon god companion. Thanks for the load of help you gave, by the way."_

"_Hey, I gave you several tips, called your ride for you, and even managed to give you a couple of birthday presents. That blade and..." he mischievously smiled. "It was all I could do," Anubis sorrowfully remembered. Truly, it was all he had been able to do. If he could've helped, Nekbet and Babi would never dare to near Sadie ever again in fear of his wrath._

_Sadie's eyes inquisitively studied him. "I've also been wondering how it is that you can come see me now, considering Walt…died and is no longer your host." He heard the sorrow in her voice. Walt had been a good guy and his death was still fresh in everyone's minds. It seemed being his host hadn't been enough to keep the curse from claiming him. "I mean you said that you could only appear in places of eath, and later it was decided that since I'm a mortal and you're a god that we couldn't be together. So, what's changed?"_

"_Umm…I think it would be better if I tell you when you're older," Anubis shyly answered doing his best to dodge her question as a red blush began a slow conquest of his cheeks. _

_Evasion only made her curious; he ought to have known that by now. Sadie raised her brow and vivaciously ordered, "Tell me."_

_He shrugged. How he hated to deny her, so he told her. "Osiris gave permission that I'm no longer restricted to just places of death."_

"_Why?"_

_He paused, that was the rather embarrassing part. It had been painful enough to admit it to Sadie's father but to tell her… the agony. "I told him that if he let me court you that I'd, with your consent of course, would one day make you my wife as well as a goddess." Taking a deep breath to calm his taut nerves, he softly added, "That's also why Shu hasn't been a problem. He's been dismissed from his duty of watching me." His eyes were only too happy to study the lines and scars upon his palms as he waited for her response._

_Sadie looked to be at a loss for words, though; her giddy smile spoke loud enough to reassure him. Anubis's gentle fingertips delicately caressed her cheek and enamored he tenderly stated, "I love you, Sadie Kane. If you want me to meet your friends, I will. Whatever pleases you pleases me."_

"_Uh-uh…oh, Anubis," she sighed. "That's," her ability to speak was still somewhat impaired, "so sweet."_

"_So, this friend thing…" Anubis began, hoping she would be able to give a further description._

_Thankfully she was. "Yeah, I want for you to meet two other friends of mine, not Liz and Emma, but my friends Lacy and Marisol, instead."_

"_Wait," Anubis interjected, "isn't Marisol that girl you can't stand?"_

_Sadie nodded. "Uh-huh, we're friends now."_

"_Since when? And might I ask how that came to be?"_

"_It's a bit of a story."_

"_We have all of eternity," Anubis earnestly replied._

"_You remember Drew?" He nodded. "Good, well anyway Marisol only pretended to hate me to get into Drew's favor so as to leak her secrets to that anonymous gossip column that apparently both Lacy and Marisol run."_

_Anubis frowned, "Lacy and Marisol?"_

"_They've been best friends since diapers, I hear." Really, well he could see that. It actually explained a few things, like how Lacy was so knowledgeable of the goings on in Drew's clique or who she was always texting when she thought no one was looking._

"_Okay. So Marisol's not our enemy anymore?" he stated, just to make sure he wasn't losing his mind. _

"_Exactly. Now that we've got that cleared up. Lacy, Marisol, and I made plans to meet at the movie theater tomorrow and I was thinking you could tag along and meet them there," Sadie declared, shifting back to her main topic._

_He nodded, just depended on his work schedule. Osiris/Julius had given consent with the one condition that he didn't fall behind in his duties. "What time?" Anubis asked._

"_Seven, about. Lacy's curfew is ten, so she has to be leave at nine thirty, no exceptions," Sadie incontestably stated._

"_Sounds like a plan. I'm off by then," Anubis confirmed. It would mean a reduced lunch break and Ammit would get a shorter walk. Ammit wouldn't be too pleased with that development; she loved her walks._

"_Well, now that we've got that figured out, why don't we continue what we were doing?" Sadie sportively suggested. Anubis groaned inside. There seriously couldn't be a third movie, could there? Gladly he didn't find out because it turned out that wasn't what she was talking about as he realized the moment her lips enthusiastically returned to his._


	11. A Night at the Movies pt 2

**Dear Ms. Anon,**

**How about 'dilemma' instead of 'problem'? I totally understand what you were saying and great comparison, by the way. You're pretty close to being completely right; it's not even your fault for the small margin of wrong. It's the fact that I haven't elaborated enough on a connection between two of Anubis's loves that leaves room for error, and it's not even with how Anubis is feeling where you're erring it's…well your right about him , just there's more… a lot more to the feelings of one his loves. And Marisol? Well I would hate to ruin a surprise, so you'll just have to wait and see what becomes of her. As for the quick explanation of Walt and Shu, well I'm a blunt, straightforward person (and often, unfortunately for my sake, seriously you have no many times I've accidently insulted my friends, brutally honest) and that's really I can say about it. I look forward to any future reviews from you and have very much enjoyed your past two, even the critical one (you brought up a bunch of good points). Thanks for your lengthy reviews, and I hope life is going well for you.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: First, an apology for the delay. I've had trouble revising, focusing on revising, and finding time to revise. I also have practice for Cross every day save Sunday and have been horrendously exhausted to the point I couldn't work on this, and then I had a cousin's grad party to attend, and well, hey, I got this done before July. So onto the second thing: The Doors, I love them. I'm not asking you to like them, I'm just warning you there's a conversation about them and you're going to see a lot of their songs' titles. If you want to look the songs up, be my guest (listening to 'Unknown Soldier' might help you understand the gunshot comment) but I don't care whether you do or don't, I'm just glad that you bother to read this, so thank you. As always, review if you want. Oh, and there are spoilers about the movie R.I.P.D., just saying.**

_The stuffiness of the evening air was made worse by the tightness of the city in the summer's sweltering heat. Though low in the sky the sun hidden behind a mist of thin smog was still an hour or two to setting. It was ten minutes before seven and Anubis was there just like he promised, but Sadie was nowhere to be seen. Thus anxiously he resolved himself to taking a seat on the bench outside the busy theater. Lots of people went in but none with colored streaks in the caramel-blonde hair that he so desired to see. Impatiently he began to tap his left foot upon the cigarette bud littered and gum wad spotted sidewalk as he urgently scanned the faces of passer-bys as seven came and went. She must be running late, he figured. Some trainee had probably had a minor accident that she was dealing with and she'd be there in just a few more minutes, but then of course it could also be something more serious. Brooklyn House could've been attacked again by some wayward magician or some god hungry for power, or Sadie could've fallen terminally ill and it was in this worry he temporarily forgot the world around him as he invented countless scenarios that could explain her tardiness, but it was also in this state that he was caught off guard by a soft kindly voice that came from behind him._

"_If you're looking for Sadie Kane, she's not coming." It was a melodic voice that was nice on the ears, and when he turned around he found its owner to be a thirteen, possibly fourteen-year-old girl on the tall and gangly side. Graceful auburn curls fell effortlessly down her back past the mid of her back and golden freckles spotted her fair ivory hued cheeks. Almost baggy light-blue jeans were in pristine condition except for some fraying at the bottoms of the legs and the black Doors t-shirt under her ragged faded jean jacket was a size or two big. Though, she was extremely pretty it was her eyes that he felt inexplicably drawn too. Sheltered by thick brown lashes the light blue irises couldn't help but attract attention to themselves. Hers were kind eyes, but it was the ageless quality about them that created intrigue. There was a modest confidence in the way she stood there staring back at him unblinkingly. Her eyes stayed on his, not even straying to even look him over to identify what type of person he was from his appearance. She didn't do that, it was almost like she didn't need to…like she knew him already. But he knew he had never met her, yet at the same time he felt as though he had. He had seen her face before, and not at that dance last year. No, from somewhere before he'd even met Sadie. But that made no sense he had rarely left the Hall of judgment in the past couple millennia and in the past two decades he knew that unless this girl frequented the French Quarter the chances that he had ever met her were pretty steep, so why did her face fill him with this sense of déjà vu?_

"_How do you know that?" he sputtered, he found himself rather hesitant, though, he couldn't figure out why he would be nervous. But that stare he felt like…like he didn't want to disappoint it. It was quite possible she was either Marisol or Lacy, but how would he know it's not like he had ever met either. As far as he knew she could be some she-demon intent on luring him into a false sense of security before violently ripping him limb to limb, but she looked rather human so he doubted the latter. Though the former could possibly explain the feeling of familiarity._

_She smiled as if he said something funny. Her smile was nice, almost made him want to smile. She pertly held out her hand for him to shake. Shyly removing his hand from his jean pocket he gingerly grabbed hers and shook. It was a proper handshake, just a brief shake as she amicably introduced herself. "I'm Marisol Ayden Jenkins. Your Sadie's boyfriend, yes?"_

"_Yeah. I'm Anubis Black." Marisol looked like she was choking on air as she bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing. "What's so funny?" he growled._

_Merriment glittered in her eyes as she gleefully replied, "Nothing, it's just that Anubis is the Egyptian god of funerals and death, and the color black is associated with death as well. Your name is just quite…um…coordinated, you know like a person wearing all blue, except it's your name not clothes and it's coordinated along a theme not a color."_

_His amused lips had a formed a smile without his realizing. "You're right. My name is hilarious," he genially agreed. _

_The girl casually shrugged. "And to answer your question Sade called when I was on the way here. She said that Carter and her were going on a sudden out of state trip. I have no idea where, so don't ask." Anubis believed her. He had seen enough liars to know one when he saw one. Marisol wasn't a liar. It also made sense. Sadie wouldn't had been able to call him because he was here and he didn't own a cell phone. "Lacy isn't coming either, just so you know. She's not feeling too well. Her dad said she threw up a few times around one and he thought it be best if she took it easy tonight." _

_Anubis dubiously gawked at her. "What? Wait, it's just you and me?" She placidly nodded. He shook his head, still not grasping why she was here then. He was a stranger and neither of her friends were coming. Now sure it was nice that she came and told him that, but at the same time he wouldn't of held it against her if she called a rain check as well. She didn't know him; he could be murderer for all she knew, and she still came. That astounded him. "Why didn't you cancel as well?" Anubis inquired skeptically._

_Marisol casually shrugged. "Well, I was pretty much here when Sade called and I figured it would be rude to leave you all alone here not knowing that everyone canceled, and hey, I love the movies." _

_Anubis stared at her. He didn't know what to say or how to react, so he just sat on that bench watching her. _

"_So, do you want to spend the rest of the evening on that bench, or would you rather go in?" Marisol teased. Anubis shook his head fighting a smile, as he promptly stood and followed her in. Marisol halted, looking up at a board that listed the movies and their times. He hadn't heard of any of them so of course Marisol had to turn to him and ask, "What do you want to see?" though he had no opinion on the matter._

"_Umm…" he was ignorant of what any of them were about, so he just randomly picked one, "Despicable Me 2?"_

"_Saw it with my aunt and her four kids last week," Marisol remarked bashfully._

"_The Lone Ranger?"_

"_With my dad."_

"_Uh, so what's R.I.P.D?" _

_Slightly dumbfounded she glanced at him a laughing smile on her lips. "Rest in Peace Department," she dulcetly answered. She took a moment's pause before with a playful slight tilt of her head she indifferently added, "I haven't seen that." _

"_Would you want to?" he casually returned._

_Marisol demurely shrugged. "Sure, if you want."_

"_Why not?"_

_Promptly Marisol nodded and headed towards the somewhat lengthy ticket line. When they were next in line as Anubis put his hand in jean pocket he realized the embarrassing fact that his wallet wasn't there. He had forgotten his wallet back in the Land of the Dead, and since he was in the presence of a mortal he couldn't very well just pull it out of the Duat. So, he was humbled to urgently whispering to an only too understanding Marisol, "I'm sorry, but I think I left my wallet at home."_

_With a patient smile she calmly stated, "Well that's okay, babe. I'll pay. Trust me, money isn't an issue."_

"_I hate to put you—"_

"_You're not," she gently interrupted, with enough authority in her tone to tell him to just accept the offer. As sheepish as Anubis felt there was nothing to do but let the girl pay for him. _

"_Next," the drowsy man in the ticket booth monotonously called._

"_Two tickets for R.I.P.D," Marisol readily provided as she pulled her bulging wallet out. She passed the ticket guy the money and he competently slid her two tickets. Briskly they moved on to another longer line for the concessions. She considerately asked, "What kind of soda do you want?" as they waited in the slow-moving crowd that loosely referred to itself as a line._

"_Soda?" he repeated as if it was a foreign concept. It might as well been to him. He had only begun to experience the drink when he began to host Walt. From what he tasted though it was almost as sweet as sahlab, but he still would prefer Nut's sahlab to a Coco-Cola._

"_Yeah, pop."_

"_Oh," he muttered as he realized what it was she was talking about and hastily answered, "whatever you're getting."_

"_Um…cool." She studied her Nike sneakers shyly for several moments before daring to look up at him. "Would it bother you if we shared then? It doesn't made sense to get two, if it's the same drink. Refills are free while another drink costs an extra few dollars."_

_He nodded. "That's fine, I understand." Mortals, always out to save a buck, hmm… even the good ones didn't mind having a bit of extra money set aside. _

"_All right then, you sure?" He firmly nodded. "Thanks." _

_When they got to the cashier Marisol readily ordered for them. "The third combo, please."_

"_What kind of pop would you like?"_

"_Rootbeer."_

"_Would you like butter on your popcorn, miss?"_

"_Yes, please."_

"_Extra butter?"_

"_No that's enough, thanks for asking."_

_The cashier placed a bucket overflowing with popcorn and a cup in front of them as Marisol paid. Marisol grabbed the cup and motioned for him to take the popcorn while she grabbed a straw and napkins. Marisol led him up a ramp towards the theaters and gave their tickets to an employee, who snapped off the stubs and returned the tickets before directing them to their theater._

_For Anubis it was curious to see how the general designs of theaters hadn't changed much during the transition from plays to movies. The only big difference was that all the seats faced this wide tall screen framed by musty dark red curtains instead of a stage. It was interesting to see how those old traveling troupes of performers that had wandered village to village to share their art had evolved into these speaking pictures that moved across flat screens. Marisol glanced back towards him and he found that he was still awkwardly smiling. Returning his smile with another of her own she benignly asked, "Where do you want to sit?"_

_Anubis shrugged. His last visit to the theater had been centuries ago. The last time he had gone to see a play some actor named Booth had decided it was a lovely evening to assassinate the president, boy hadn't that been a night. It was no wonder he preferred to remain aloof after that spectacle. Mortals just weren't no good. In the old days he had preferred either the front few rows or a balcony. But considering the screen was the focus point the thought that the front might not be the best seats in the house occurred to him. "It doesn't matter, whatever you want." It was better that she picked, he didn't know the dos and don'ts of movie theater seating and he didn't want to ruin her night by sitting in the wrong spot._

_Marisol curtly nodded, throwing a wary glance his direction. "Not too particular are you?" she murmured in annoyance. He followed her up to the middle back of the theater where they sat down in the direct middle of the row. She placed the cup in the holder as he sat. He looked up at the advertisements that were playing before glancing back at the girl sitting beside him. _

_Anubis frowned, he wasn't making much of an impression now that he thought about it. He probably ought to try to say something interesting, but what would interest Marisol. Then he remembered the name of the band on her shirt, The Doors. That sounded familiar. Of course, now he remembered. The Doors, that 1960's punk rock band known for their song's poetic lyrics and the fact that the lead singer, Morrison overdosed in Paris. Yeah, Love me Three Times Baby, Hello, I love You, Break on Through (to the Other Side), Light my Fire, Peace Frog… Uh-huh, he might be able to manage that._

"_So you like the Doors?" he hesitantly inquired._

_Marisol briefly glanced down at her shirt before answering. "Uh, yeah. You?"_

"_They're cool. What's your favorite song?" he suavely replied. He wasn't sure he was a Morrison fan, the guy did have a drug problem, after all, but he had to admit the band did have a number of good songs and were well credited for their work of mixing poetry with rock. _

_Marisol paused as she silently debated in her head what she ought to say. "Unknown Soldier. To be honest, I don't know why but even though I expect the gunshots every time I hear it I think they're going to be louder than they are and I nearly have an anxiety attack waiting for them. I also love Riders on the Storm, The Chrystal Ship, and even, don't judge me, Touch Me. What's yours?"_

"_The End."_

_Marisol laughed, "I should've guessed that. That song was for a movie, Apocalypse, right?"_

_He couldn't remember but it could've been. "Possibly," he shrugged. For an antisocial god of funerals he thought he was doing pretty well with this whole making conversation thing. It didn't feel as awkward as earlier so he didn't really think about it as he leaned over to Marisol and whispered, "Marisol, can I tell you something?"_

_She glanced at him with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "Sure," she nervously answered._

_He drummed his fingers anxiously on the armrest. "I've never seen a movie in a movie theater," he solemnly muttered._

_Marisol's body instantly relaxed. She leaned over, failing to hold back her mirth that started as quiet chuckles only to rapidly turn into honest boisterous laughs. "That's great, really, that's just so great. Really great," she deliriously murmured to herself._

_He had no words, no he had words; he just didn't know which ones to say. 'What the hell is wrong with you?' seemed a tad strong while 'Is something wrong with me?' seemed too self-degrading. So he just stared at her with eyebrows frowning and mouth slightly agape. It wasn't long for Marisol to figure out that her reaction was no doubt a perplexment for the introverted Anubis._

_Marisol stifling her giggles, abruptly turned towards him. It took her a moment to focus and be able to look directly at him. "Okay, let me apologize for that. I wasn't laughing because I thought you're weird or anything. Actually, I was relieved. For a moment there I was scared that you were going to say something really serious, like about issue you have with your family or even with Sadie," he must have had a miffed expression because she then immediately added, "Not that you two have issues. You're no doubt a great couple and I think I'm going to shut up now before I accidentally insult you further." _

_Anubis didn't know what to think about Sadie's friend. She seemed nice, though like Sadie she spoke her mind, but with more reserve than Sadie. And that apology, he wasn't insulted, so she hadn't needed to, but she still had. It was nice. Sadie insulted people all the time, both purposefully and accidentally, and come to think of it he couldn't remember her apologizing once. No, he wasn't comparing Sadie to Marisol, was he? Oh gods, he was. If he remembered right Marisol was not the sweetest person, either, however when he looked at her he couldn't but doubt the stories about her. She just acted so honest and sincere that she couldn't possibly be the same girl Sadie had bad-mouthed throughout the past year. Her smile and laughter came easy, and she apologized. She apologized. Those unrepeatable words Sadie had spoke weren't right to describe one who had apologized so quickly for such a minor offense._

"_I'm not insulted," he assuredly commented._

_A content grin displayed her pleasure. "Well that's good," she beamed. He liked her voice, it was a kind voice that reminded you of everything good in the world like fresh baked cookies, sunny days at the beach, and the revelry he loved from good old New Orleans._

"_I think we might have the theater to ourselves," she observed after a fleet glance around them. Anubis swiftly scanned the room. Marisol was right, save them, no one was in the room. _

"_That normal?" he pondered._

"_Sure, if you live in small town America and it's a regular Tuesday morning during the school year. For Brooklyn on a Friday night it's not as normal, but I don't might it. Just means that we get to chat without getting shushed."_

_Sure enough her predication proved true as the lights dimmed and the previews began. The theater was all theirs, and like Marisol said it just meant they could continue talking._

"_Really, you're starting it with a fat monster thing running up the side of a building. Ugh," she groaned in disgust. _

"_That a bad beginning?" he ventured. The only movies he had ever watched were the two he had watched with Sadie the day before._

"_Uhh…no, it's just…it's not really that captivating, though, I'm sure the movie gets better. Now for a great example of a real solid beginning to a film look at Murder on the Orient Express. Sure, it's a tad dated but boy does that first scene always gives me the chills."_

"_Why?"_

"_The score, how the kidnapping is staggered by newspaper clippings, and the fact that it really happened," Marisol listed. Hmm…kidnapping and murder, okay? Marisol didn't strike him as a girl who was into all that. _

_Marisol softly sighed as she kindheartedly commented, _"_I don't know who I feel more sorry for: Julia, who thinks a Chinese man in stalking her, or her husband who isn't recognized by Julia because he looks like a Chinese man."_

_Julia, Anubis decided in his head. The guy shouldn't have taken the gold in the first place. _

"_Now that it think about I do know, totally Julia. He shouldn't had taken the gold," Marisol concluded. He glanced at her suspiciously. "What?" she chuckled noticing his stare._

_He shook his head. "Nothing," he murmured. Coincidence, it was only coincidence that she came to the same conclusion as he did. Marisol was mortal; it's not like she could read minds._

"_She's not going to die," Marisol confidently predicted after Hayes stabbed Julia._

"_Why not?" It looked like she was going to die, so why wouldn't she?_

"_Because they don't do that in movies. Somehow the girl always gets saved. Look at Disney for proof of that. Did you know in the original story of The Little Mermaid that the little mermaid was supposed to stab her prince on his wedding night if she wanted to return to her family and because she didn't she turned into sea foam."_

"_Sea foam?" _

"_Yeah, sea foam."_

"_Well, that doesn't make sense," he commented._

_Marisol shrugged, "It's a fairytale, it doesn't have to make sense. Wait, what? She died?"_

_Bewildered Anubis looked up at the theater screen and suddenly understood. Julia couldn't be seeing Nick as himself if she was alive, but since she was seeing him and not some Chinese man she had to be dead. Anubis chuckled as he watched a horrified Marisol. "Well, I guess that you're theory doesn't apply to this movie."_

_But just as he said that the movie decided to contradict him. "Hah, what did I say?" Marisol boasted. _

_Anubis stared at the movie in aghast. "What that's not fair. She was dead."_

"_Uh-huh, and then woke up in that hospital bed, very much alive."_

"_But that's not plausible, she died."_

"_Hon, it's Hollywood. They don't care about plausible."_

"_She shouldn't be alive."_

"_Well duh, and true love's kiss shouldn't have worked for either Sleeping Beauty or Snow White. It still did. Like I said the girl almost never dies."_

"_You said almost," Anubis pointed out._

"_So, there's always an exception," Marisol blatantly remarked._

"_Name one."_

"_Uh…it's hard to think of one off the top of my head. Wait, One Day. Anne Hathaway's character gets hit by a truck," Marisol replied._

_Wow, she was good, he had thought he had her. "Do you watch movies a lot or something?"_

_Marisol shrugged. "Maybe. Do you think we should get heading? It's the credits and that usher guy down there looks pretty eager to clean the place up."_

_Anubis looked behind him and sure enough there was the usher at the bottom of the stairs waiting for them to get a move on. "He does," Anubis snickered._

_As he escorted Marisol out of the theater he couldn't help himself he just had to ask," So what do you believe happens when you die?" The imaginative versions that mortals invented of life after death had always fascinated him. He had spent years pondering what it must be like to be human. Knowing that each day you moved closer to death, and then to not know what came after, must be terrifying to be mortal._

_Marisol laughed before answering with philosophical grace, "Well, isn't that the question everyone wants an answer to. After life what becomes of us? Do we dissolve into nothingness or is there a second life awaiting us? Most cultures believe if you're good in this life you get rewarded afterwards and if you're bad you get punished while still others believe in reincarnation. As for me I still don't know exactly what I believe happens. How about you?"_

_Anubis laughed, should've expected she'd return the question. She was a friend of Sadie's, after all. "A mix of both theories."_

_She nodded before stating, 'Wait here while I call my ride." It only took her two minutes for her to return. "He'll be here in ten."_

"_So, what did you think of the movie?"_

_Marisol shrugged. "It was okay. Parts were funny and other hmm.." Anubis smirked. "Really I did like it, it's just I hated those CGI deados."_

_Anubis scoffed. "Why?"_

"_Because they're supposed to represent the rotting of our society, but they didn't quite fill me with dread," she crisply noted._

_Anubis nodded. "But they were grotesque."_

_Marisol shook her head, "Sorry I prefer the vintage monsters from the black and white era, the hours of make up that went into some of them, just breathtaking. The early vampires and Frankensteins are freaking demented which make them pretty awesome. Though, I will admit I have a soft spot for Imhotep because I love the scene in the 1998 version of 'The Mummy' where a scarab crawls out of a hole in his neck and into his mouth and he chews it. You haven't seen The Mummy have you?"_

_His blank face answered her question. He'd made mummies, though. Telling her that would probably freak her out, however, so he kept silent._

_Merrily her eyes looked up to the sky. "It's alright. Should've guessed, considering this was your first night at the movies. I actually prefer the 1932 version anyway, I love the it when the assistant realizes the mummy left his sarcophagus so poor guy cracks into delirious laughter because he just lost his mind, " she noted._

_Smiling came surprisingly easy now. It was weird considering he just met her but he found himself enjoying talking with her. Weird. Bubbly, chatty people usually annoyed him._

_After a quick glance at her phone, Marisol excitably turned to him as an idea occurred to her. "Why don't you come over to my house? We could watch The Mummy, both the 1932 version and the 1998 version, as well as The Mummy Returns. Only if you want, though, and if your parents are okay with it," Marisol eagerly suggested._

_His parents wouldn't care; if they cared they wouldn't had abandoned him to his aunt and uncle. As it was Osiris/Julius and Ruby barely noticed him when he was there so he doubted they would notice if he returned home late. Since it was a pleasant night and he was enjoying himself with Marisol he nodded to her and decisively agreed, "Sure."_

_With a wide grin she noticed an old black jaguar coming towards them. "And that would be my chauffeur, Mr. Black," she reported with a teasing air of extravagance._

"_Chauffeur?" he eyed the girl curiously. Now he hated to judge people, though it sorta was his job, but this girl hadn't struck him as being rich, but then again he could be unfairly classifying all rich people as snobs. Looking at the girl in her jeans and baggy shirt he couldn't grasp the size of her family's bank account, or even the fact that she probably had a trust fund. _

_She coyly smiled back. "Well, I did say money was not an issue."_


	12. A Night at the Movies pt 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Feel free to review. I would love to hear what you think of the story so far. Anything confusing that I should clear up (keeping in mind some things I purposefully make confusing)?**

_Marisol had not lied about her family's wealth Anubis observed as he entered her family's apartment. In the foyer a Louis Tiffany stained glass lamp graced a sturdy cherry maple antique side table that sat next to the door of a closet that served as a humble coatroom while an imposing grandfather clock stood watch on the opposite wall. The clock face a masterpiece of its own due with a rotating circle, one half to represent the day and other the night. Light hardwood floors split in two directions; one towards the living room that featured two large leather sofas, a plush recliner, and a coffee table all resting atop a stunning garnished Persian rug, and the other towards a beautiful kitchen that would've been a professional chef's envy. Between the hall that separated the two rooms there was a door that opened to reveal a posh powder room, and beside the dining room that overlooked Central Park was an elegant glass staircase that spiraled up to the bedrooms. Seriously the place looked like it could have come out of one those Home Improvement magazines._

"_So how'd your family get their fortune?" he brazenly inquired. Anubis knew that by some it could be considered a rude question, but he didn't think Marisol would mind._

_The girl tentatively looked him over in curious trepidation before hesitantly replying, "My father's in business, however the family's old money out of Chicago."_

"_Why'd you leave Chicago?" _

_There was a long pause, not a gap resulting from her collecting thoughts but instead reserve. The kind of reserve reared from a healthy fear of something that could potentially get you killed. "We had business to take care of here," she stiffly answered._

"_What kind of business?"_

_Teasing lips smiled as she softly murmured, "The kind your parents don't tell you about." It was then he suddenly noticed how eerily quiet the apartment was. He barely even heard the city. All he heard were the sounds of their presence: their muffled steps on the cushiony entry rug, their steady cycles of inhaling and exhaling, and the whoosh of the door as it was sent on its way to closure before the dull thud and metallic click of the lock._

"_Are your parents sleeping?" he uneasily asked. There were no obnoxious snores, no soft mumblings from the other rooms, no footsteps or drowsy calls to greet their daughter. Only quiet._

_Languidly, Marisol nimbly placed her jacket on the table in the foyer. With a mischievous grin she chuckled, "How should I know? They're on a business trip in London."_

_Anubis stared at her, his mouth hung open with stunned incredulity. "And you still invited me over?"_

_She shrugged as if was nothing, and to her it probably was. "So, all we're going to do is sit there on the couch as we watch a few movies while snacking on junk food," she candidly stated._

_Anubis guessed she was right and for the first movie (the 1932 version) it was just as innocent as she described. They sat on her black leather couch stuffing their faces with cherry Twizzlers and these delicious muffins she had baked earlier in the day (he was tempted to ask for the recipe) as they watched the black and white film._

_They watched most of a second movie (also called The Mummy to his belief) but didn't quite make it to a third. The night was late and his eyes drooping as the soft hum of the city and television just barely kept him awake. Marisol had some time ago decided that his shoulder made for an excellent headrest while her glazed over eyes maintained steady contact with the screen. The faint scent of her strawberry and vanilla scented shampoo lingered on her silky hair mixing with the tangy smell of her fruity perfume as the scents wafted into his nostrils. He found his eyes deserting the movie and watching her instead. Watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled, the flutter of her golden lashes as she blinked, and the lovely inviting curve of her full rose-hued lips. Devoid of rational thought his hand reverently weaved in and out of her thick wavy curls while his mind was stupefied by the mesmeric beauty of the fair girl beside him. Traitorous lips betrayed heinous thoughts as they softly uttered, "You're beautiful."_

_Startled blue eyes received his compliment, their owner hesitantly murmuring in a dreading stupor, "What?"_

_His lips claimed hers lustily. She ought to have pushed him away and chastised him on what a despicable person he was, but she didn't. No, instead she let his lips take their pleasure with hers. Though, she didn't return his kiss, he didn't stop. He wasn't going to break away as long as she was willing to continue, and she most definitely wasn't pushing him off. His hands losing interest in ruffling through her hair moved down creeping under the fabric of her shirt. One second's pause and her brief nod, the only consent she gave and he reveled in it as their position already comprising became damning.__His hands touched her in places his hands had no right to be as he passionately kissed her with lips that should've been Sadie's alone. Anubis knew Marisol that night in a way he shouldn't have known her ever. _

_Morning came and he woke to her body entwined around his and the guilt-ridden realization of what he'd done struck him. "No," he despondently muttered. "No, no, no," his voice cracking with dread. Her eyelids blinked open, her blue eyes watching in muddled befuddlement as he detached himself so he could find his clothes amongst their garments haphazardly strewn upon the floor. "No, no, no." Once having managed to be properly dressed he allowed his gaze to wander back over to the girl who had crossed her arms across her chest in a futile attempt at modestly where she sat, not having left that couch where they had betrayed her friend, his girlfriend._

_He shook his head, not understanding. Sadie said Marisol was her friend. "Why didn't you stop me?" he desperately pleaded. _

_A good friend would have shoved him away and then called Sadie to immediately report what he'd done. What reason did she have? Did she want to hurt Sadie, were Sadie's stories about her that he had so quickly dismissed more accurate than he had thought? Was she just a cruel child who enjoyed causing pain? Was she... No, her eyes told him. Last night, no, it had nothing to do with Sadie. So why? Her eyes were trying to tell him, he could tell, but whatever they were trying to say got lost in translation. And somehow he knew that Marisol didn't have the ability to voice what they were saying. She wanted to, but she just couldn't. Something was stopping her, what? Was it the same thing that made her pause when he asked why they left her family's Chicago? Yes, yes, her eyes said. I'm sorry, they whispered over and over. Sorry, sorry, sorry..._

_With contrite eyes she dared to look back at him and answer his question with another. "Why did you kiss me?" Why, indeed? But those reasons didn't matter, they were flawed reasons. He was Sadie's. Sadie. He couldn't only place the blame on Marisol, though. She didn't stop him, but he had started it. He kissed her, and if he hadn't he knew Marisol wouldn't have crossed that line with him last night. _

"_Please," he gravely murmured. If Sadie learned…_

_Marisol sincerely nodded. "She won't hear it from me."_

_Though she had proved herself to be a terrible friend he believed her. Whispering "thank you" he fled the apartment and started towards Brooklyn House, towards Sadie._

_The House's tenants warily eyed him as he made his way up to the classrooms. Interrupting the class she had been teaching he pulled her close to him and held there in a somber hug. Nothing else mattered as he tightly held her to him, not the stares of her pupils nor even Marisol, only Sadie mattered. What Sadie and him was true love. It was. Last night meant nothing. He loved Sadie. He was going to marry her. He was going to make her a goddess and they would spend eternity together. Last night wasn't him, and he knew the minute that he thought that, that it was true. It's like something, a part of him, buried deep inside him, in a forgotten alcove of his mind, had possessed him last night. It had wanted Marisol desperately, as if it had been waiting for her for ages. Perhaps it had, but why had it wanted her when it should've wanted Sadie. That's what he couldn't figure out unless...no, he was Sadie's. He was Sadie's._

"Hey, Anubis, could you get popcorn?" Sadie inquired, already handing him the empty bucket along with the pop cup, empty too except for the ice.

"Of course, my love," he coolly replied, quickly pecking her on the cheek as he departed the theater for the lobby. Like usual the line for the concession stand was ridiculously long, and he was left too much time for thoughts to wonder and as usual they sprinted toward Marisol. He should've told Sadie that morning after. She would've yelled and probably even broke up with him, but he wouldn't carry this guilt. Why had he kissed her? Why? He had convinced himself that it was the smile that he could so easily lose himself in or that charming positive attitude of hers, though in the back of his mind he knew it was neither. So he would tell himself it was because she had apologized. She had apologized when so many others that had done worse things to him never had. Even his mother had never actually looked him in the eye and told him that she was sorry for giving him up. Anubis knew that theory was wrong as well. The closest he had ever gotten to figuring out why had been a few years back. Sadie had gone to Marisol's, good thing she had. Found her crumpled form on the kitchen floor, blood-stained knife gingerly held in her right hand. The ambulance sirens, the shuffle of doctors, and the beeping of machinery. He hadn't known she was so miserable. Why, he had asked himself over and one night when she woke to him beside her, he began to grasp at an explanation for everything about her.

_Hooked up to the beeping machines and IVs in that hospital bed in a cramped room the size of a closet she looked so small and helpless looking. Happy, hopeful Marisol, what could make her attempt this. To feel that so low that she wanted to take her life. It was mid afternoon and the sun just barely made it over the tall buildings to sneak in between the closed curtains and into the room. Marisol was just waking from a nap when she saw him next to her. A smile played on her lips as she playfully stated, "Well hello, babe." He brought her hand to his lips, so thankful that she had failed in her attempt._

_"Why did you it?" he bluntly asked. It was killing him to not know. She loved life, her family and friends, and Roselle. Roselle, she loved their baby girl so very much. How could she think of abandoning their child like that?_

_Her voice told him nothing, however, her eyes told him everything. In those blue irises he saw clearly what had pushed her to that point. Him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, but she wasn't really. She really wanted to die. Though she was smiling in that easy way of hers, she wanted to die. Her apology wasn't about trying to kill herself, no, it was for something else, something bigger. She wasn't apologizing to him, no she was apologizing to thin air, to the ghost of the past. Guilt ate at her behind those eyes as she wistfully muttered, "But you should've let me die. It would've been easier."_

"_No, no…it wouldn't have been. Think about Roselle. If not for yourself, live for our daughter," he protested._

_Marisol cynically frowned as she weakly shook her head. "You don't understand. Now history has to repeat itself. If I had died maybe it could turn out okay, but now...I've grown to like her, too. It's a shame but now...may the world be damned. I'm doomed now, she has to die, and no doubt if she's like the last she'll take the whole world with her. Selfish snob, if only knew you what you've caused, girl," Marisol bitterly spat. Tears of anguish clung to her lashes, stinging her retinas._

_He was confused. "What are you talking about Marisol?" Happy, positive Marisol, what had happened? It's like an internal switch had flipped and that girl was no more. All this girl was anger and pain, only bitter truths and wistful regrets._

_She sadly chuckled, her crazed eyes lost in her delirious mirth, "That's just it, you can't remember."_

"_Remember what?"_

"_The before, Anubis. The before." She spoke to him as if he was the student who just couldn't learn his lessons, though, they should've been the easiest thing in the world to grasp._

"_Before what?" he implored._

"_This cursed waiting, of course." __It was then that he came to a realization, this was her why. The answer to his question of why she hadn't stopped him. No, he didn't have her exact reason, but that was when he started to get it. There was a bigger picture. The reason she hadn't cancelled and met him at the movies that day, the pause after he asked why her family left Chicago, the part of him that made him kiss her, why she wanted to die. It was all connected, somehow. The before and the waiting...what was she waiting for? The big picture. That was her reason. Everything she did was for what was awaited. He understood, he understood why she tried to kill herself. Marisol didn't want the waiting to come to its end, whatever she was waiting for, it was big, altering. Something that terrified her enough that she didn't want to live anymore. By saving her they had doomed her. Doomed her to what, though? He didn't know, but for some reason he felt that he was supposed to be beside her, like that was where he belonged in the grand scheme of things; though, Anubis knew that was just folly because he was Sadie's and it was beside Sadie that he belonged._

Outwardly he must've looked troubled while lost in his thoughts because a voice from behind startled him as it suddenly asked, "Something bothering you, son?"

Spinning around Anubis found himself facing a heavily tattooed bearded man with shaggy greasy hair, black as slippery oil. Though his ecru skin was covered with a disorienting number of images one managed to especially catch Anubis's attention, even though his scraggly beard hid most of it. What he could see definitely intrigued him, though. It was on the left side of his neck, just below the chin. The tattoo closely resembled the Set animal, except it was odd because the animal was bowing to something, rays of something, but that scraggly beard hid exactly what the rays were coming from, so for the meaning of the image he was at an impasse. He didn't ask about the tattoo, it didn't feel right to.

Anubis shook his head, remembering he had been asked a question.

"You sure, boy?" the man asked once more. His accent was odd, Anubis couldn't quite place it. It seemed both old and inflected by many peoples of several lands.

Anubis nodded, firmly answering, "Yeah, I'm sure." The man's gaze didn't leave so the jackal god figured that he ought to make small talk, them standing in this infernal line and therefore stuck with one another for several minutes more. "So, what movie are you seeing?"

The tattooed man faintly smiled, sending chills down Anubis's spine. "I'm not here to see a movie."

Anubis uneasily glanced around, this man was starting to freak him out. If he wasn't here to see a movie, why was he here? And in line? Unless he just wanted overpriced movie theater popcorn, but that wasn't the most logical thing to do, so Anubis concluded that something was up. "Why are you here then?" he inquired.

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?"

The man dismally shrugged, "I don't know. The last time we met her name was Simone," he coldly replied.

Anubis frowned. "Doesn't ring a bell, sorry."

The tattooed man merely smiled that creepy smile of his. "I didn't expect for it to," the man nonchalantly replied.

"Well, I hope it turns out well for you," Anubis stated. He hoped for this Simone's sake that the man didn't catch up with her. The man didn't feel...ugh, he had a past. A quick look in the Duat showed the darkness that surrounded him, truly a man with many ghosts.

"It won't," the man bleakly predicted, "it never does with her."

Anubis nodded as if he understood when in truth he just wanted to get back to Sadie and as far away from this individual as he could. "That's too bad," he remarked, thankful that the cashier called next, and it just happened that there was no one in front of himself.

As he settled back into the rickety theater seat his mind drifted away from the bomb bursting, gun-shooting adventure flick Sadie had chosen. It just came to him that the man looked strikingly familiar to him. Something about him and that tattoo. Finally it occurred him he had known a man with a similar tattoo many millennia ago, a man who once had been his father's priest before disappearing into the sands of the desert in self-chosen exile.


	13. Anastasiya Volkom

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Yeah, I meant to update sooner, but darn procrastination. Concerning my next update, I honestly don't how long it will take me because I'm going to be busy this next week with stuff like tonight we're apparently going to my grandma's house for a party (I hear there's going to be a pig roast, which disgusts my darling mother greatly) and Driver's Training is coming up...so less time to do this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and that life is going well for you.**

_Asya vaguely reminded him of that princess who had been confined to a tower while he watched her sitting there at her vanity as she brushed stubborn knotted tangles out of her naturally straight golden locks made wavy from the tight braids she always wore. Like that princess in the fairytale she was trapped and isolated from the world, but instead of it being a witch as her captor it was the mister who was forbidding her from leaving the grounds and on the bad days her room. More often than not the mister had business up in Seattle, so the duty of seeing that she stayed put was often left to his oversight. He hadn't truly realized the necessity of this duty until one autumn day late last year. He had gone to fetch her a cup of tea, an absence of only several minutes, yet when he went to check on her she had gone missing. That afternoon the mister and him scoured the woods behind for hours until they came upon her in a quiet clearing. She had been crying. Something about a princess and a god, was all he was able to understand amid her nonsensical babbling._

_ The miss wasn't dressed for the day yet, and the rich black silk robe __lazily __hung off her thin shoulders, much too thin now that he thought about it, revealing the puffy sleeves of the crisp white nightgown she wore. Absentmindly she was stroking the sleek black and white spotted pelt of one of the many cats the mister kept. Said they make up for the family he lost, like Asya did, except she wouldn't be around as long his feline companions. Once Alex asked what he meant by that and smirking the mister had blatantly remarked that she don't ever last anywhere long. That's just how it's always been, hard to break old habits, son. _

_"Sweet Caoimhe," she softly whined, "isn't waiting so very dreadful?" As if waiting for the cat to respond she allowed the creature a moment of thought before soon concluding the cat had no comment to make. A weary sigh and the miss was continuing on with her thought, sneering more and more the further on she went,"Alas, my darling, there is nothing I can do... but continue in this loathsome waiting. Horrible stupid selfish girl, just you wait foolish child. Look at what you have made of me; all I am is a meek child born only to sorrow and pain. When it's you who should be being punished so. Twas you, princess, that was the one to break the rules. Before you I was happy. He..." _

_At his entering his foot chanced an unintended meeting with the floorboard that was always creaking. Blonde curls snapped towards him at the sudden sound of the floorboard's disturbance, her wide eyes cautiously studying his person. The miss's startled reclusive expression instantly morphed backed into her approachable laughing smile. "Good morning, Alexander," her kind voice was touched by the same beauty that was found in the haven of the gardens she cherished so._

_His lips curved upwards into a goofy grin. Clarity held grip of her behind those beguiling blue irises today. Asya was the mister's adopted daughter, as he had learned when he asked her why it was the mister called her daughter yet she called him uncle. They had came to Seattle in the months following the flu's wake. Good people, they had kindly taken him in and given him this job, though he was only just a lad. Sixteen years this summer. The miss had only fourteen to her due._

_ "I brought up your breakfast, Miss Asya," he stated, lifting the silver tray he held. Poached eggs, three orange slices, and two chocolates wrapped up in gold foil wrappers, all on their own separate china plate. The plates unfailingly plain like her room, white except for a silver border._

_"Leave it on my desk, and Alex, take a chocolate for yourself," she gently ordered. Miss, had always been the kind sort, at times distant but never intentionally cruel in her speech and action. He knew she liked chocolates, and so one day thinking he'd get to glimpse her lovely smile he started placing two on her breakfast tray every morn. Not only had she smiled but also shyly she had murmured something about how so very sweet he was. From that day to this present one, she always told him to take one for himself. Explaining to him once that everyone ought to have at least one thing that brightens their day, and in reply he always would say that he didn't need chocolate to do that; her smile was just as capable. Nonetheless Asya would jovially chuckle, telling him to take the chocolate anyway, and he always did. Though, her smiles were still sweeter by far, and as he was starting to learn, her kisses sweeter than even those smiles._

_He made to exit, pausing at door's frame. Turning back to look at her he hesitantly murmured, "Asya?" In truth her first name was actually Anastasiya. He didn't know the surname she had been born with, at some point in recent history she had taken the mister's, Volkom. Wolf , rumors theorized about the mister. Alex doubted them, but he knew the townspeople were deadlocked in their beliefs, and he himself couldn't dismiss all the odd things that seemed to happen around the mansion. Like last week one of the gents that be doing business with the mister, Alex almost swore they were speaking another language, he had heard the name of a country, Egypt, come up among what to him could only sound like gibberish . But what the mister did and who he talked to, that was none of his business so he didn't waste his time pondering over it all. With Asya and the mister it was easier not to question things, safer too. __These men, they weren't the good sort. The looks and feelings he got from them, not quite human. Not ruthless exactly though, nor soft either. But they were patient, like they had all the time in the world and sometimes he caught himself thinking that maybe they did. Maybe time was a joke to them, a plaything easily toyed with and of no great consequence. They came from Chicago mostly. Speaking in solemn whispers and plotting looks they had all of the characteristics of those in preparation for something big. That was the feeling he had got since he first started here, that something big was happening or going to happen, and Asya, she was part of it, the big something. How though? She was a fragile thing with a scrambled mind. What role could she play? Asking that led him to thinking about her just in general, and he always found himself asking the question of who was she. Really, who was she before she came here? Where had she called home? Whom did she love? Her parents, her friends, her neighbors...who were they? Did she think about them a lot? Or had she done her best to forget them to the past?_

"_Yes, Alex?" her soft voice ventured, bringing his focus back to the girl currently in front of him. She was standing now, and was closer. Close enough he could count the number of rings on the chain around her neck before it disappeared beneath the fabric of her nightgown's collar. Caoimhe had fled from the presence of her master's ward._

"_What happened to your family?" It was a daring question to ask and one he himself had no right asking for as it was he himself no longer had a family to speak of. The Spanish flu had taken his mother and four younger sisters while his pa had died of a family illness before even the war. Likewise pa's siblings had all died young and before the war while his grandmother passed in the December of 1917 from a heart attack. __The Volkoms were all he had nowadays. He lived in their house, in a guest room they provided, and ate the food that their money bought from the grocer's. Though, he missed his own family, he was content here with Asya._

_Asya morosely frowned. Her frowns made him frown, for beautiful creatures like Aysa ought to not be knowing sorrow. "They're all dead, Alex. My mother died birthing my stillborn sister while father was shot fighting in the war. As for darling Leonid, boy, he was so small, it wasn't a surprise that after the flu claimed him he passed less than a week later." Tears dripped from the corners of her stunning pale blue eyes. Eyes that he lost himself in if he didn't keep in check._

_He sincerely bowed his head. "I'm sorry for asking, miss."_

_She attempted a smile, but it was a broken thing. "It's alright, Alex. I don't mind you're asking." He knew she didn't, but he minded the pain the memories gave her._

_Since he had already asked a question out of his bounds it couldn't hurt him for to ask another. _"_Miss Asya, mind my asking, but do you ever think you would marry me?" It was an indignant question to ask…but he loved her. He'd been in love with her for a while now. Those stolen moments, just him and her, they were the highlight of his days. _

_She wistfully smiled. "Alexander," she softly began. She solemnly nodded, her honey sweet voice saying, "Of course, Alex, when that day comes. I would marry you because I know I'd be happy, you'd take care of me and our future children, and I believe I could be a good wife to you." Biting her lip nervously and her eyes no longer able to keep contact with his, she continued, "However, regretfully I'm afraid I wouldn't love you. Now see, I really would like to, but another owns my heart. It shall always be his, no matter how he wounds it."_

_Alex frowned, he never would hurt her, only protect her. How was it she could she love someone who was hurting her when she had him? "Who?" he anxiously inquired, though, Alex already knew who. His was the face that she was always sketching, especially on her less lucid days. Yes, she never left the house and Alex was the only boy who she could possibly interact with, but this was the boy connected to the nightmares. How, Alex wasn't exactly sure, but the boy had a role in it all the same Alex had concluded. _

"_Don't worry, Alexander. My hand is yours in this life if Vadim wills it so," Aysa distantly remarked as if trying to make amends somehow. Yes, he wanted to marry her, but he also wanted her to love him and forget this boy._

"_But your heart?" Alex asked, quickly realizing he had spoken out of place._

_Her blue eyes met his with a fierceness he had never glimpsed in her gaze before. "I've lived hundreds of lives and died hundreds of deaths because I love him. If eternity is how long I must wait for him to find me and break this damned curse then that is how long I will wait for him. Oh, I live, but I take no joy in it without him. Yes, when Vadim gives my hand to you I will marry you gladly, and I am sorry, I truly am, but I will never truly love you. I just can't, for if I stop loving him everything I've suffered has been for nothing. Can't you understand that I am his and he is mine, even if it is he can not remember me? They've torn us apart, but..." She crumbled to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Rocking back and forth while frenzied tears ran their course. Between choked sobs she weakly ordered, "Please go, I wish be left alone." Though he wished to sit down beside her and hold her until the tears had lapsed he had a feeling he couldn't comfort her in this, this was beyond him._

_Aysa's eyes flew open. Where was she? This bed she was laying, it was not her own. The classical paintings on the gold patterned wallpaper, they were not of her husband's picking. Where was he? Where was Alex? He had promised he'd never abandon her. Where was their baby boy, Davis? This carpeted floor that her feet sunk down into was not right. Their bedroom's floor was hard-wood. The luscious gardens street below resplendent in dawn's warm rays beyond the black shutters__ were not the overgrown rose bushes and wildflowers that were supposed to be there._

_From her place at the window she didn't even turn when behind her a door opened and a man entered carrying a tray. Asya heard him setting the tray upon the writing desk pushed up against the east wall and the whoosh of an aging chair's cushions as he sat. In utter puzzlement she turned around to view her companion. His skin was tan, he wore linen robes, and had a goatee. _

_"Morning, Simone," he purred. French, the accent and words were distinctly French. She knew French?_

"_Who?" she asked, speaking English, though her voice was not her own. It was the rasp of some French girl's. Who was this Simone? Wait... was she Simone?_

_The man laughed, realizing his error and switching to English for her comfort. "Who are you today, my dear?"_

_The girl's blue eyes narrowed before she proudly declaimed, "I'm Aysa Volkom. Where is my husband and son?_

_The Frenchman watched her curiously like she was some animal confined to a cage within a zoo. It was then that she noticed he was scribbling away in a journal. Who was Simone? Was she some test subject of French scientists? This was probably just another nightmare, she'd probably wake up in Alex's arms in a cold sweat and he would kiss her forehead and gently whisper into her ear that everything was okay and that it had been only a dream. The cotton, Egyptian cotton she noted recoiling at its touch, of the blanket was too soft against the tips of her fingers for it to be a creation of her imagination as she sat at the edge of the bed._

"_Husband?" the man amusedly inquired, taking into consideration the young age of the girl before him._

"_Of course, my Alex. He has lovely eyes and is so very kind. He's tall and he's…."The images of her final moments flashed before her eyes. Her leaving their bed as she wandered out into the night, heading to the clearing where her old acquaintance waited. That wretched prince, why was it always him? After his countless futile attempts he should've figured out by now that she would never let it fall into his pitiful clutches, and even if she had he couldn't do anything with it. The fool needed her, otherwise it was just another golden trinket of his bygone civilization. Completely useless without her, its keeper. "I died," she unblinkingly declared._

_The Frenchman nodded, commenting, "That's usually what you say."_

"_What happened to them?" the crazed thing desperately inquired with wide eyes and trembling frame._

_Truly Michel Desjardins felt pity for the child. So many years to hold, it was no wonder the creature had gone mad. "Tell me the names and I'll look into it." And he did. Both husband and son dead in their twenties due to a family illness. He didn't find it in him to tell the girl, she was already pained enough. As he expected it came that one day her pain was simply too much, but she held on long enough to whisper her last sentiments to him. Her last words to the world as Simone were quite ominous: "The waiting, it's nearly over. I'll be with him again, soon." Though, he had no proof, something in his French gut allowed Michel to understand that when she said him she hadn't meant Alex._

"Zia," Carter urgently called.

Blinking the hopes of sleep from her eyes his pregnant wife irritably pushed herself up into a sitting position in the bed he was supposed to be occupying with her at this late hour of the night. Instead he had decided to go through Simone's interviews once more, it was becoming another of his obsessions. She loved him, truly, but this...ugh, he should be sleeping. Simone was dead, her reincarnation, not so much, but not so dire that it couldn't wait until morning. "Yes, Carter?" she grouchily returned.

"It says here that one of Simone's previous incarnations went by Aysa Volkom, later Aysa Stone," Carter excitably reported.

Okay that was new, but well it clearly hadn't been important enough to tackle twenty years ago so why was it worthy of keeping her from sleep's lovely embrace? Thus Zia frowned, sharply asking, "And the importance, dear?"

Carter smugly smiled. Zia raised a brow, obviously he thought this could be important. "Desjardins did a little research, which he was kind enough to include in Simone's file. She lived in Seattle during the twenties and died in 1932 as a cold case with no body found or murderer caught. That's not even the interesting part. She was married to a man by the name of Alexander Stone. Who she had a son with, Davis, who had three children. Only one was a boy and that boy had five children, all boys and all dead by ten, except for one who lived to be thirty-four, the same year his only child was born. A son who little more than twenty-two years ago had a son we all knew as Walt."

Zia's mouth fell open. "What?" she exclaimed. "But...Walt?"

Carter nodded understanding her apphrension, "Yeah, he was the great-great-grandson of one of Simone's previous lives. If that isn't a message I don't know what would be, but then again…"

"It could also be coincidence," Zia suggested, voicing her husband's fears and her best hopes. Coincidence meant Walt was still the guy they had known, not tainted by association with Asya's people. Asya Stone, Walter Stone. It was definitely curious, and Zia had to admit she was terribly curious to know if in fact Simone's reincarnation had sought out her relation.

Carter nervously gulped. "Which is why I think we ought to visit Walt's mother."


	14. A Conversation at the Stones'

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Hi. How's life going for all of you? If you haven't guessed I've been busy with Driver's Training, but that's only partially why I haven't updated. The thing is whenever I get a new CD I have the habit of listening to it for hours on end and doing nothing else and I got two new CDs: Nanobots by They Might be Giants, and another of which I will not say because it's a guilty pleasure (and before you start pondering what I find to be a guilty pleasure I'll tell you it isn't One Direction or even Justin Bieber {nothing against those you like them, but I just don't listen to them} but I will tell you that it kills). Anyway I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading so far. Please review; I definitely appreciate feedback.**

The dark looming clouds had forewarned them, but Carter had hoped that the rain would pass over the city only to now be disappointed as the first drops of rain splattered against the windshield. He waited for the raindrop tessellation to fully cover the sheet of the glass and was no longer able to see the street ahead until admitting defeat and switching on the wipers. Their frantic work leaving the glass streaky to the point where the visibility was no better than when it was rain droplets that impaired his ability to see the suburban landscape spanning out in front of the rental.

"Turn right at this next street," Zia directed him with disapproval quite prevalent in her voice. He had told her that if she wanted to she could remain in Brooklyn, but there in the passenger seat she sat with a glare that would send any demon or even a number of gods running in the opposite direction.

Had it been seven years already since they had come to Seattle for the funeral? It had been raining on that dreary day too, like even the sky happened to know that the world had lost a good guy before his rightful time. Carter didn't remember that day much, only the tears and sniffles muffled by white Kleenexes. The trainees and Zia, Sadie and him, and Anubis along with Bes and a few of their other godly friends had been there too, all of them sitting in the back pews, out of place among the motley assortment of Walt's relatives and family friends. Carter could faintly remembered that even a well-to-do once business acquaintance of Walt's late father had showed up with his wife and daughter from Chicago. Though the mourners were a diverse grouping the church was still only half full, and that hadn't felt right. He felt that there should've been more people that were able to say they had known their late pal, but the number made sense as Walt hadn't had too many friends back in Seattle, apparently. There had been too many hospital stays and doctors' visits made for treatments tried in vain. The one time they made a go at public education was the day Walt opened his locker and found the djed amulet and their recordings and from then on the rest was history.

"Turn left at this sign and go straight three blocks." Zia's amber eyes flickered from the weathered atlas to her surroundings, warily scanning what could easily be dismissed as just another neighborhood block while the brooding drizzle gained intensity as a howling wind began picking up.

"Nasty weather," Carter awkwardly commented. Conversation had been strained since their arrival, mainly consisting of road directions.

Zia frowned as she solemnly replied, "Strange more like it. Seattle doesn't get too much rain in the summer."

Carter smirked, "Are you trying to say that it's a god's doing?"

Her grave frown scolded him for his joking tone. "No, I'm only saying it's unnatural. Maybe a god, maybe something else."

He nodded. "Okay, let's say that is. So why?"

Thinking it over Zia response came accompanied by an ill at ease shrug."Perhaps they're trying to warn us that it's unwise to be meddling here."

"Meddling...what with the rogues? Seriously, what would the rogues do to us, dear?"

"They abducted Setne when he started nosing around in Chicago. It's seems they're not as shy as we originally thought they were, Carter." Her amber eyes usually fierce were edgy today. It was odd, for fear was not a normal emotion for her; though, it was in her eyes all the same. In the flighty glances that scanned the outside terrain to the uptight posture that couldn't be good for her pregnancy.

Carter placed one hand atop hers as he soothingly murmured, "Zia, it's going to be okay, relax." Unfortunately words had the opposite effect than he had intended them to.

"Relax, Carter," Zia angrily spat. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "When does anything go okay for the Kanes? As it is what do you know about Asya, Carter?"

"Umm…" he paused. It wasn't that he hadn't tried researching the girl, it was…there was nothing on her, and Zia knew this. "Nothing," Carter despondently murmured.

"Exactly," Zia conceitedly replied. "Nothing. There was no birth certificate, no immigration papers, or anything about a single family member that the girl was related to by blood and it looks like that until her marriage to Walt's great-great-granddad she might as well not have existed as far records are concerned."

Carter fervently nodded. "I know," he gruffly conceded.

"Of course, you do," she snorted. "But doesn't this make you raise any questions. There should be some kind of previous records."

Carter shrugged. "It was a different time," he suggested, in truth in his gut he knew she was right, but maybe...

She only scoffed and narrowed her eyes. "Don't be naïve. Aysa was obviously a rogue."

"What makes you think that, dear?" He'd himself had figured as much, but he wouldn't mind knowing what her thoughts on Aysa were so they would be on the same page when they interviewed Mrs. Stone.

"I think she was important to them."

"Why do you think that?" Carter inquired.

"Because someone went to lengths to make it look like she didn't exist. They wouldn't do that if she wasn't important," Zia concluded.

"Or maybe the records got accidentally destroyed in a fire or some other kind of accident," Carter pointed out. There was still the slightest possibility she could be innocent, unlikely, but possible all the same.

"Perhaps, it's still probably a rogue's doing," she firmly noted.

"Turn right."

He turned right.

They were silent. This was weighing on both of them. The rogue scenario couldn't have come at a more inconvenient time as Zia was pregnant and Sadie was getting married to the god who apparently had been hosted by the great-great grandson of one of Simone's past lives. Simone being the only rogue and lead to what was so valuable that the rogues abducted Setne after he started sneaking about in Chicago looking for, and this was a suspicion of Carter's, Simone's current reincarnation. He could almost hear the chorus of "It's a Small World (After All)" playing in the back of his mind…ugh bad reference, now that song was going to be stuck in his head all day.

Anyway, Walt, who would've thought? Carter found himself wondering exactly how much had it been that their late friend had known about his family history, and led to pondering whether Walt had ever even been their friend or had just been working for the rogues. Though logically a great case could be made proving both hypotheses Carter just couldn't buy either theory especially the latter one. Walt had loved Sadie, so sincerely enough that he agreed to host the god he was the rivaling for Sadie's affections. Thing was that attempt had failed him, and Carter didn't want to believe that they could so hardhearted that the rogues would send Walt to his death. Then again it wouldn't have been the first time they sent one of their own to die, just look at Simone.

"Carter, stop!" Zia exclaimed. He slammed on the brakes bringing the rental car to a tire screeching halt. "We're here," his wife solemnly stated as she unclipped her seatbelt and opened her car door.

To be honest he hadn't thought much or at all really about what Walt's childhood home looked like before, yet he was surprised all the same as he walking to the front, for it was your typical suburban estate. A white and grey house identical to every single other house up and down the street, and sure the house wasn't bad looking or even shabby. In fact it looked like it was a nice place to live with a good length driveway that led up to a garage whose door was just beneath a battered basketball hoop that had obviously fallen into disuse several years back, and branching off from the driveway there was a walk way that passed a row of plump rose bushes and other flowers such as daisies and tulips on the way to a cloudy glass paned front door where just beside the doorframe there was a plastic white doorbell whose centered glowed an orangish yellow.

As his hand lingered over the doorbell Carter nervously remarked, "Perhaps we ought to have called first?"

"Perhaps," Zia uttered as she brushed his hand aside an rung the doorbell. Its cheerful echoing through the house announced their presence to the house's sole occupant. From beyond the clouded glass they were able to watch as a blurred silhouette appeared coming closer and closer until it was opening the door and the face of a middle-aged woman was peering out towards them. The transformation from youth was showing with gray streaks amid her brown curly frizz and the beginning of frowning wrinkles reminding the world of a time when smiles came easier before loss became her norm. She wore lazy around the house clothing, a loose pale blue shirt accompanied by a pair of light gray sweatpants.

Eyeing them with both distain and suspicion the woman coldly remarked, "Why don't you salespeople get moving along? I'm not interested in whatever it is you're selling, so scat. I already have to hear about your ridiculous products when your people harass me with all your calling and now you have the nerve to harass a good woman like myself on her doorstep. Well, I'll be. How do people you sleep at night?"

Zia shook her head, interjecting just as Walt's mom made to slam the door. "Please wait, we're not selling anything," Zia protested with enough authority in her voice that Walt's mother stopped and gave the pair another wary look over.

"So then why are you on my doorstep?" she brazenly inquired.

Straightening his back Carter held out a hard for her to shake and after a moment's internal debate she hesitantly took it. "I'm Carter and this is my wife Zia. We're from Brooklyn House. We…"

Tears were budding at the corner of her eyes as she hushed him. "Don't, no need to continue darlings, come in. Would you like something to drink? I have water, orange juice, Sprite, milk, and I can make coffee if you like," Walt's mother warmly offered.

Stepping inside Zia asked, "Do you have tea?"

Walt's mother nodded as she inquired, "Lipton good?"

"Perfect." Zia carefully examined the room. The space was quite empty. The foyer's only furnishings consisted of a pair of hot pink crocs, an umbrella splattered with images of ducks, and the welcome mat they were standing on. Straight ahead she could make out the corner of a refrigerator in what could only be the kitchen. They removed their shoes placing them beside the pair of crocs they followed their hostess straight past a stainless steel fridge and into the cozy kitchen where a casual dining table and matching chairs were placed.

"We can sit in here or go into the living room, whatever you find more comfortable," Walt's mother said filling a mug up with water from the sink faucet. Once filled close to the top turning the faucet off she straddled over to the microwave on the green-tiled counter. Punching in 3:30 before turning back to her guests who had already taken seats at the kitchen table. "Can I get you anything, son?"

Carter shook his head," I'm good, thank you."

She nodded. "Alright then but if you change your mind just tell me and I'll get you something."

The microwave beeped. Grabbing the mug she dropped a tea packet into the mug, watching as swirls and loops twirled under the water's surface as it dyed the clearness a translucent amber. "You need sugar or milk, dear?"

Zia shook her head. "No thank you, I like it unsweetened."

"As you wish," Walt's mother stated placing the mug down in front of Zia. Taking a seat at the table herself she studied her guests faces as she frankly asked, "So why did you come all this way to talk to little old me? This about Walt?"

Carter opened his mouth but didn't know exactly how to say what he wanted to say. "Well," he began, "yes and no. It involves Walt somewhat to the point we thought you might be able to help us."

"How much do you know about Walt's father's family?" Zia brashly asked.

Walt's mother uneasily shrugged her shoulders. "Enough, I guess. Why?" Her voice was wavering which meant that enough was an understatement.

"Because we were wondering if you could tell us anything about Asya Volkom. She was…"

"Walt's great-great-grandmother," Walt's mother finished her voice's waver gaining intensity. "Yeah, I know of her. Go south a few towns and those folk still talk her and her adoptive father. They were strange folk and towns don't forget strange folk."

Carter nodded, "I see, but why were they strange?"

"That's an easy question to ask, boy, but not to answer. There's many reasons just for that one question. It could be that Asya never once left that home after she came here, but it could also be that that the man, Vadim, was believed to a werewolf of all things. Whatever it was the whole town avoided them, well all except Alex. The townsfolk knew better while Alex, he fell under the spell of Asya's charm and quickly fell in love with her.

"And Asya loved him," Carter guessed.

Walt's mother shook her head, "No, I don't believe she did. She married him yes, but loved him? Perhaps like a brother or dear friend, but passionately in the romantic sense? No, in fact it's believed that there was another from her past who held her heart."

"Do you know who?" Carter asked.

Walt's mom shook her head, "Sorry, no Asya never named him, or if she did no one bothered to remember the name. She drew him, though, but Alex burned those drawings after she died."

"Why did she marry Alex then, if she wasn't in love with him?" Zia pondered aloud. "No offense, but Alex was the help."

"Exactly," Walt's mother murmured, "the townspeople asked the same question. Honestly no one knew what Asya was thinking except Asya, but I believe the reason was that he was loyal to her and that was something she felt need of and so married him to keep him close. Now the townspeople also labeled Vadim and her as trouble, tangled in business they shouldn't be dealing in, so some say Alex was useful to her in that business, though, that can't to be right. You see Alex was a good man, and he wouldn't of hurt anyone. He couldn't have, for that's just the type of person he was."

"But Asya?" Zia ventured.

A solemn smile foreshadowed her response. "Asya was a fragile thing, but I don't know. She was…unstable."

Zia glanced towards Carter before asking, "So did Walt ever know anything about Asya?"

Walt's mom shook her head. "No, but Asya knew about Walt," she quietly replied.

Carter and Zia's eyes widened. "But how?" Carter stuttered.

Shaking her head the mother simply stated, "I have no idea. I just know she left something behind for him in her will."

"What was it?" Zia asked.

She smiled. "Wait here, I'll go get it."

When she returned she was holding a wooden box the size of jewelry box, but it lacked the elegant designs to be found on most. It was completely plain, void of all design. "Here," Walt's mother said putting it down in front of the couple.

Tentatively Zia ran a hand over the lid's clasp. "May I?"

The mother nodded consent.

Pushing the lid open it fell back to reveal just two simple items: a note and a small key. Zia reached in and cautiously plucked the yellowed piece of paper out and once unfolded there was only one short line of the girl's smooth handwritten cursive scrawl in scarlet red ink.

'Where day meets night what was stolen but forgotten by those who shall seek it in time hides.'

Zia looked up at Walt's mother studying her the woman's reaction. "Was Walt ever given this?" the magician urgently inquired.

Shaking her head Walt's mother seemed completely oblivious to the box's contents as she blankly replied, "No, like I told you he wasn't aware of anything to do with Asya."

Her amber eyes narrowed. "Why?"

A shrug. "I-I didn't want to, okay. Asya frightened me. I heard the stories about her growing up and was taught anything involving that family was bad news. Even the realtors want nothing to do with that property, well except Lillian Davis. She's still at it even though everyone in the area avoids that place like the plague. "

Zia eyes weren't watching hers Mrs. Stone anymore instead they were beady and hard as she stared at the note in her hand while her thoughts churned. "The house is still there?"

"Of course, they weren't about to demolish a historic mansion, and anyway it still belongs to us."

"It does?" Carter started.

"Would you let us see it?" Zia inquired.

"Uh…are you sure?" This prospect didn't seem to excite Ms. Stone as much as give her reason to fret.

The former host of Ra nodded. "Yes, we're sure."

"We are?" Carter murmured.

Walt's mother smiled, "Very well then, I'll go call Lillian then to see if she could give you a tour."

Zia smiled. "Lovely."

When Mrs. Stone departed the kitchen Carter to his wife demanded, "Exactly what are you thinking?"

Zia calmly replied, "We're going to visit Asya's home."

Not comprehending Carter blankly shook his head, "But why?"

She handed him the note and instantly Carter understood. "She said Asya never left home, therefore whatever she left behind for Walt is probably still on that property."

Zia smugly nodded.

Meanwhile in another room on the second floor Mrs. Stone was paying a call to the realtor, Lillian Davis.

"Hello, Mrs. Davis speaking. How might I-" a perky upbeat eagerly greeted.

"It's me. They want to see the property," Walt's mother urgently whispered.

Ms. Stone could almost feel Davis's smile on the opposite side of the line. "Excellent, Aka will be pleased."

"Good...and the bills."

"Aka has already taken care of them."

"And-"

"Don't speak of him, not while they're there. Please don't worry, love, we take care of our family, remember?" Lillian purred.

Mrs. Stone uneasily smiled. Family, of course, they take care of the family.


	15. The Princess

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: This was not the chapter I had plans of posting but the one was I was planning on didn't quite fit here right, so I wrote this one instead. I hope you enjoy it because I stayed up past midnight writing it and as always please review. I haven't got any reviews on the two past chapters so pretty please review on this one. If you have any opinions, suggestions, or comments concerning the story I'd be glad to hear them. I also enjoy it when you include your predictions on what will happen next, so if you want to please speak up. Also I've been wondering about the length of my chapters: Too long, not long enough, just right, or would you prefer them to be broken up a tad bit more.**

Anubis tucked a lock of wispy gold behind her delicate ear and allowed his lips to morph to hers in their continued embrace. The night was late and they were situated on the bed in her room. Outside the room the mansion was silent as the trainees had gone to bed at the eleven o'clock curfew (after their victory against Apophis Carter had figured that since they were no longer fighting a snake that desired to swallow the sun and end the world he ought to ensure that everyone was getting a good night's sleep). Usually Anubis wouldn't had stayed this late out of respect for Carter, but since Carter was off in Seattle he had been persuaded to stay longer than usual.

Her arms that were wrapped around his neck coyly wandered down to the hem of his shirt and impishly attempted to remove it's fabric from his chest before his fingers nimbly intertwined themselves amongst hers. "No, Sadie. I don't think that's a good idea," he gently murmured.

She pushed him off her and playfully glared at him. "Why not?" she puckishly demanded.

Anubis shrugged hopelessly. "Because…" he wracked his mind for a good reply, "I think it would be more special if we waited for our wedding night."

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "No, you're scared of what the other gods would think if you knocked me up before we were married." She bowed her head closer to his until her lips were at a teasing distance before solemnly muttering. "But I don't care what they say. I love you and I'm ready so…"

He sighed. "Sadie, I don't think we should provoke them. They've agreed to let me court you but only because I plan to make you one of them, but as it is currently you're still a mortal and this…us…is still very much taboo, my love. I just don't wish to offend them. Can you understand that?"

Sadie despondently sighed. "I guess," she replied. Her gaze rested on him, but her interest in their previous activity had waned so she found herself asking him, "Do you just want to watch TV then?"

Anubis smiled. "That sounds nice."

Sadie smirked. "Okay, just let me get dressed for bed," she stated, taking off her shirt. Though part of him was in shock at her brash action he instinctly adverted his eyes so she could dress in privacy. He heard her snickers. "You know Death Boy, I'm going to be your wife," she teased.

Anubis nodded his head, "I know. It's just I want to give you your privacy."

Her fingers caressed his cheek before turning his face so he was staring at her. As well as the shirt she had also stripped herself of her jeans and now stood in front of him in nothing but her underwear. She bent down and tenderly pecked his lips. "So…" she began, hoping that perhaps he'd changed his mind and could be lured into ignoring those pesky rules, but Anubis didn't budge.

"Could you at least put a shirt on?" he calmly asked.

A hint of annoyance flickered behind her eyes as she stated, "I could, but I don't feel like it."

"Please."

"Is it really that important?" she whined.

"No," he softly conceded.

She took her hand from his cheek and sat down beside him on the bed. Her eyes bore into his earnestly searching for an explanation. "Don't you want me?" Saying that she sounded so fragile and small that he felt awful for making her feel that way.

Taking her hand to reassure her or was it himself that he was reassuring, or had one and another become the same? Was fooling her the same as fooling himself? He couldn't do this anymore, to himself, and especially to her. Tonight, the night she had decided she wanted to make love to him he was going to confess. He had to, for this was wrong. Her and him, here, when it was he had a daughter with her close friend.

Her hand was going white as the blood flow was caught off in his tight grasp. Apparently his grip was tighter than he had realized. Anubis took a deep gulp and spoke. "Of course, I want you. I love you for now and for all of eternity which is why I want to wait for when we're wedded and you're my immortal wife." These words came slick and easy off his tongue but weren't the words he had meant to say. What was going on? Had he been lying so long that the words just rolled off his tongue without his thinking about it? These lies, this wasn't him. He weighed the freaking Scales of Judgment, he condemned wrongdoers by throwing their hearts to Ammit, and now he was no better than any of those scumbags. Like them he was a liar and a cheat. He wanted to tell her but he just couldn't; instead, he was kissing her neck and whispering hollow compliments in her ear. You love her, half his mind said while the other half was screaming: NO, YOU LOVE MARISOL. NO SADIE. Marisol. SADIE. SADIE. SAdie…

"_Excuse, boy, but could you watch my little girl? I have some business to discuss with an acquaintance just over there, and it's not the kind of talk that little girls ought to be hearing," a thickly Russian accented voice gently inquired, though how the husky voice was capable of gentle had Anubis at a loss. Upon realizing it was he who was being spoken to Anubis glanced up at the clean cut figure of a businessman, maybe a lawyer. Whatever work he was in it paid well if the nice Italian suit and loafers were anything to show by it, not to mention he was carrying a hefty briefcase that had that glossy spanking new look to it._

_Anubis didn't even have a chance to say no as the man rushed off giving the funerary god a gruff soft-spoken thanks as soon as Anubis looked up, leaving the god with questions of the child's upbringing, after all it isn't too smart to leave your daughter with a stranger in a graveyard. As if that wasn't enough, he was doing business at a funeral. Oh how the vastness of human greed still astonished him in what little respect it had for the dead, from the robbing of graves to the children of the decreased quarreling over the deceased's earthly possessions, what disgusting and vulgar people these mortals could be. Nevertheless here he was left with this little girl in her black cape-collared dress tied which in at the waist by a thick satin sash that was tied in a big bow at the back with caramel blond braids pinned to the back of her head in an elaborate hairstyle while a fist clenched by it's leg a blond-haired doll. She looked six maybe seven years at most. The kid was smiling at him so he smiled back at her. Something in her toothy smile just gave him a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. _

"_So that doll got a name?" he urbanely inquired._

_The little girl glanced down at the porcelain plaything before looking back up at him and bluntly answering, "Of course, she does, but I don't call her by it," as if it was an obvious fact._

"_I see…so what do you call her then?" he continued._

_The child grinned but this smile didn't give off that warm fuzzy feeling, no it gave instead it left him with a feeling of foreboding. "Princess. I call her Princess."_

_Princess, an answer that many young girls would've given, but this one had spoken it with a loathing sneer. She had no love for Princess, and it was such a fine toy for it to be loathed so. A custom job he was guessing by how realistic and detailed it was. "Would you tell me Princess's actual name?" _

_The girl shook her head, smirking ever so._

_Anubis glanced side to side in a dramatic fashion before he bent down towards the girl and suggested that a deal be struck. "How about this, you tell me the name of Princess here, and I'll tell you my own?"_

"_Do you really want to know?" the girl asked, a dare in her eyes and voice._

_Anubis nodded._

"_Okay, then. Bend down." He didn't go down far enough as she irritably ordered, "Lower, I'm not that tall, yet. I'm only five and three quarters years old."_

_He was bent over like an old man and the girl was on tiptoes as she whispered through cupped hands into his ear a name. "Sadie."_

_Anubis smiled as he straightened himself back up. When he looked back down at the girl he found she was staring at him expectantly like the name should've resonated with him somehow. "What?" he snarled in mock annoyance._

_She smiled, it was warm and fuzzy again, but knowing, teasing. Seeing ahead into a future even he didn't dare to predict. "You'll see soon. Just you wait," she chuckled._

"_Anastasiya," the girl's father called, his business concluded. "Best we be leaving, darling."_

"_Have a good life, kid," Anubis cordially remarked._

_Anastasiya glanced over to her beckoning father before looking one last time at him and saying her parting words. "Farewell until we meet again, Anubis." That said off she skipped to her father taking the hand he offered. As Anubis watched the girl and her father disappear down the street it occurred to him that he had never told her his name._

With wide eyes he sat petrified while Sadie sat warily watching. Leaning away a bit she looked him over and asked in genuine concern, "What's wrong, Death Boy?"

And like an idiot he answered, "You're her princess, Sadie." It wasn't a wonder Sadie glanced around the room to make sure she wasn't being pranked and was looking at him like he had lost his marbles. If anyone, excluding that little girl because well she was a little girl and imaginations are crazy at that age, had given him that response to be honest he likewise would've thought they were cuckoo. "We need to talk," Anubis concluded.

Sadie shook her head, putting that last crazy statement far in the recesses of her mind. "No need, if you want to wait, we can. I love you."

"I love you, too." Just as his lips pressed against her forehead the phone in Carter's study went off. "You should get that," Anubis benignly suggested.

Sadie shrugged, "Nah, it's probably some fifth grader calling to ask if our refrigerator is running."

Anubis frowned and tilted his head like he does when puzzled. "Why would anyone call asking that?" he pondered, only to be received by Sadie's chuckles. "It's an honest question," he protested but to no avail.

"Bless you, Annie."

"Don't call me that," he snarled.

"Fine, Jackal Boy," she retorted. There was nothing Anubis could do but shake his head and smile as some things would just never change.

As Anubis made to speak a knock sounded on her bedroom door and Sadie got up to open it. "Wait, Sadie, don't you think you shou…" too late she had already opened the door and startled Felix in his penguin PJs. He handed her the phone before hastily retreating back down the hall to his own room.

Chuckling to herself Sadie closed the door behind her and raised the phone to her ear. "Hello, ahh…you currently have the honor of addressing your magnificent sister, Sadie. What's that? You're staying an extra day to tour some old manor, uh-huh and I'm in charge. Lovely, tell Zia I said hi. Oh, don't worry Carter. Enjoy yourself and take as much time as you need out there be it a week, a month, even a year. I'm perfectly capable of keeping Brooklyn House running, see you. Night. Bye Carter," Sadie pressed the end button and looked up at Anubis. "Maybe you're right; I should have put a shirt on." Placing the phone on the top of the dresser she crossed back over to him and sat back down. "Now where were we?" she asked, making to pull him back to her but Anubis stood up.

"I think I ought to go," he began.

"But…" Sadie started.

"No, no, no it's not you, babe—"

"Babe? Where'd you pick that up? The only person I know who uses babe is Marisol," Sadie reflected.

Anubis's blood froze. He had to get out of here before more questions came up. "I'm so tired and it's a packed schedule tomorrow at the Hall of Judgment. So I really should get some sleep."

"You could sleep in my bed," Sadie offered.

He shook his head. "No, you see it's takes a couple days for me to adjust to a mattress and…and like I said I need sleep, badly."

Sadie shrugged. "Fine, night."

Kissing her lightly on the lips he bid her good evening and left for the sanctuary of his own room in the Land of the Dead. Little did he know who was waiting for him there, and it seemed sleep would have to continue waiting because as he turned the knob and stepped into the foyer of his chambers he was greeted by a smug arrogant voice calling to him from the living room. "I believe a congrats is in order, though I can't imagine why you would want to marry that Kane girl," it sneered.

Throwing his jacket onto the coat rack Anubis ambled into the living room and sure enough there was his father lounging on the black Victorian loveseat in that signature red suit. "What do you want, pops?" Anubis spat.

"Tsk…tsk…didn't Isis teach you any manners, son. It seems you take after your mother, she had no respect for me either…" Set japed.

Clenching his fists Anubis growled, "Don't talk about her like that."

"Why not? It's not like she was much of a mother to you."

"Yeah…like you were a father," Anubis loathsomely muttered.

"Well at least I watch out for you. Who else has been protecting that girlfriend and kid of yours these past six years," Set defensively barked.

Anubis became significantly quieter. "What are you talking about?" he asked in dread, already knowing his father's response.

"You know, Marisol and your lovely Roselle. If I dare say that daughter of yours has my spunk, don't you think?" he proudly stated.

"Does anyone else know?"

Set puffed his chest out in mock horror. "Really boy, you'd think I'd sell my own son out to be massacred by the Kanes and their godly goonies. Of course not. It's a secret between just you and me."

Anubis narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "What's in it for you?"

Set stared at him mournfully. "Can't you entertain the notion that I'm trying to help you? You're my boy. We're blood."

"Then where were you all these years?" Anubis desperately asked. "Where?"

Set shook his head. "It's not that easy, son. You're well aware of how Osiris and Isis can be…"

"It's doesn't matter about them. This about you and where you should've been," Anubis growled.

"Boy…"

"GET OUT!"

Set hung his head and pleaded, "Please kid, I want to make amends between us. Can we do that?"

Anubis bit his lip and muttered, "I said get out."

His father nodded and got off the couch. "Fine, if that's the way you want it." At the door Set turned around and looked at his son before asking, "Can I say one more thing, Anubis?"

Anubis rolled his eyes. "You're going to say it whether I like it or not so go ahead."

"I had hoped you would choose Marisol."

Anubis stared at him. It made sick to hear her name come his father's mouth, it was like he defiled her pure beauty with the very deceitfulness of his essence. "Why ever, father, did you desire that?"

Set smiled, "She's nice and you deserve someone nice. There's still time to change your mind, don't just marry Sadie because you feel like it's your duty. Remember when you get married it's going to be for eternity so put the ring on the right finger, kid." Then just to remind Anubis what an…ugh, you know…he was he winked before joking, "Also would've made family get-togethers all that more fun."

"Have sweet dreams, son," his father called as the door shut behind him. Anubis's dreams that night were anything but sweet, for he dreamt of that little girl he had talked to that day in the French Quarter, and when he woke, her farewell still echoed in his mind.

"_Farewell until we meet again, Anubis. Until we meet again, Anubis. We meet again, Anubis. Meet again, Anubis. Again, Anubis."_


	16. A Tour of the Volf Manor

**Author's Note: Hey how are all you doing? I hope you've been well. Sorry if I've been longer than usual. It's because I went on a vacation/dad's business trip (got to love it when your dad's work pays for the whole thing) and even though I had access to a computer and wi-fi I was so tired I had to go straight to bed when we got back to the hotel every night so I got little done on this while on the trip, plus I've had a little writer's block. Anyway I hope you enjoy the chapter, and please review if you care to because I'm always glad to hear your opinions.**

Carter had a suspicion that the word 'yellow' was in some way part of Ms. Davis's secret name, for it summed her up perfectly. To start with her clothes, the uniform crisp jacket (worn over a white blouse) and ruffled floral skirt, were both pale, nonetheless eccentric, shades of yellow. Then the earlobes shyly hiding behind the real estate agent's blonde bob were weighed down by dangling golden sunflowers while a heliodor pendant hung loosely around her bony neck. The color also suited her personality with her excitable and gleeful way of speaking in which she spewed out words at a rate that rivaled even Sadie when you got her going, yet Ms. Davis's words couldn't help but dissolve from memory as soon as spoken. It wasn't that she was boring, but the stuff she spoke of was of little use and, okay, she was a bit boring. However, Ms. Davis was a nice lady, but to the point you wondering how many times she had been dropped on her head as a baby.

"So what brought your attention to the property?" Ms. Davis asked with a wide smile that seemed impossibly stretched. Earlier when she had picked them up at their motel she had asked them to call her Lillian. For some reason shivers went down his back whenever she smiled at him; though, he couldn't figure out why. Carter felt it was a bit unlikely that Ms. Davis, excuse me, Lillian was a rogue as he sat in the backseat next to Zia watching Lillian drive them in her yellow bug with the daisy-patterned seat covers. She just didn't strike him as the secret killer on the side type.

"We were intrigued by the history of the manor," Carter smoothly answered, smiling and holding his wife's hand.

Lillian bobbed her head, turning the wheel ever so that with a sudden bump they left the main road and started down a dirt stretch. Well, actually more mud than dirt as the rain was still pouring and the thunder and lightning still at their raucous dancing and booming above the earth. "Sorry," Lillian squealed, "I've always hated that bump. Talked to the county once to see if they could smooth it out, but you know how it goes. Things pile up and complaints are so soonly forgotten. But where were we now? Ah yes, the history. Anastasiya and Vadim were interesting, no? But how did you hear of them? Sarah informed me that you're from Brooklyn, and to the best of my belief the house's occupants aren't quite that well-known."

"Walt was a friend of ours," Zia reservedly supplied.

"Oh," the real estate agent uncomfortably gasped. "Well, I'm so very sorry, he was so..." Lillian was tearing up, "he was such good a young man and it was horrible how that boy died. He was...so young and so full of potential." She loudly sniffled before sadly sighing, "You know what they say it's always the good ones who die young. Now where did I put those tissues?" she asked herself, one hand blunderingly shuffling through the contents of the driver's door pocket. Finally finding one she blew into it, the sound rivaling a trumpet's toot.

It was at least ten minutes going down that bumpy puddle ridden dirt road until they pulled up to a gate with missing, broken, or just plain rusted paint-chipped black metal bars. In its prime it might've been foreboding, but now it was just pathetic, yet still only the beginning of the ruin, for that was the manor basically had come to be. Though it stood, the years had not been all that kind to it. As Lillian got out of her car she handed them an umbrella and regretfully informed them they would have to walk up the drive from the main gate. After getting out of the yellow bug Carter quickly came to the conclusion that Ms. Davis hadn't decided on her parking place so she could better show off the landscape after he nearly tripped over a crumbling brick, coming to the understanding that driving the car down this driveway would've been a nightmare. The main problem was the driveway was brick, and no one had obviously thought to fix the driveway up since, well, the bricks had been first laid down. Now if the bricks weren't missing they were crumbling, and then there were also these crusty brownish prints in the shape of feet in what appeared to be a line heading toward the manor that looked like a southern plantation had been plucked right out the pre-Civil War era. It was built of yellow-brown brick and choked by vines. The windows were either broken or cracked, and some on the uppermost floors had been completely boarded up. Taking in the shamble Carter couldn't help but lean over and mutter to Zia, "Shouldn't this place be condemned?"

Lillian had quite good hearing as Carter learned when only a moment later the real estate agent loudly scoffed, "It's safe enough, the inspector came through just a month ago." Swallowing down her annoyance Lillian began her practiced monologue in a cool collected professional manner. "The manor was built in 1911 by a Jedrek Jenkins, who had earned his fortune in New Orleans, but was unable to ever live in the manor due to fatal injuries received in World War I during 1918. The rights to his fortune were transferred over to his friend Vadim Volf until his son, a boy named Leonid, came to be an adequate age to manage the business left behind by his father."

"What business were they in?" Zia politely inquired.

Lilian paused and a hesitant frown revealed the how little she cared for giving an answer to Zia's question before replacing her reluctance with a false smile and slick response."Mr. Jenkins was a private man and little is known of him. Now where was I? Ah yes, Leonid. Leonid died in the late months of 1918 when Spanish flu went through New Orleans, and thus the fortune was left in its entirety to Vadim Volf. In 1919 he and his adopted daughter took up residence in this house."

"Would you know anything about Asya's life before she came here?" Zia inquired.

Lillian pursed her lips as she shook her head annoyed. "Nothing. A closed adoption, it's presumed she was the daughter of immigrants."

"Nationality?" Carter implored.

"Thought to be Russian."

Zia bent her head close to Carter's and whispered, "We should contact Leonid to see if he can find anything out." Carter nodded.

"To the left and right you can see what remains of the gardens. It's overgrown now as you can see but many of the flowers that Anastasiya cherished still grow here, such as the abundant rose bushes," Lillian rushed eager to be out of the downpour. Eyeing the green foliage Carter noted that the rose bushes looked to be the most prevalent of anything in the garden. Following behind his wife, Lillian led them up a front walk that was under siege by an army of dandelions and their weed allies to the manor's front double doors. Doors that hung crooked, and therefore were never truly closed standing at the top of five splintered wooden steps that looked like someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

Ironically as Lillian reasurredly smiled and assured them, "They're perfectly safe," her marigold heel sunk through the first step, and a hearty curse bounded out from the real estate agent's mouth before she was able to catch herself. Nonetheless the party managed to make it up the steps and through the door without further mishaps.

Now judging by the exterior Carter hadn't expected much from the manor's inside, so when stepping in he found himself pleasantly surprised. The place wasn't bad at all. In fact it was quite nice. Sure there were cobwebs and dust, but Carter could forgive the house for a lack of a good cleaning. The place had been abandoned for a number of years. "Much of manor has been left untouched, but there was a period in the 1930s when the Stones were having financial issues much like the rest of the country so to bring in a form of revenue the family auctioned off several heirlooms, which included three priceless paintings, the china, and even one of the custom grandfather clocks built exclusively for the manor. You'll see its twin later when we make to the parlor."

Carter nodded, as Zia was busy scanning the room for a possible location for Asya's reference in her note. Where day and night meet. Well, nothing in the foyer fitted the description. On the floor a threadbare oriental rug hid the hardwood floor while the coatrack sinisterly held it arms out to receive them, and the wallpaper was a black paisley design. The whole room just seemed to give off a vibe of bitterness and anger like it was in a state of permanent mourning.

Ushered out of foyer they were led through a library filled with bookshelves but lacking the books to fill them, a very outdated kitchen with piles of mice excrement surrounding the oven, and several other luxurious rooms including the bath, the dining room, and Vadim's bedroom. Stepping into Asya's room Carter was taken aback by the décor or to be more accurate the lack of it. Compared to the rest of the house it was strikingly plain with only a few pieces of furniture, which was a dresser, a bed (not a big bed either just a full-size), and a basic vanity. There was one window and its black curtains prevented the sun from brightening up the drabness of the room. Placed on the floor by the bed dressed with white sheets and a gray blanket there were three paintings.

"Were these Asya's work?" Zia gently asked. If they were, then Walt's mother's comment that Asya had been unstable seemed to be revealing itself as only more and more true.

Lillian disinterestedly nodded. "The only ones Alex didn't burn."

Made of tentative careful strokes and salient hues the images presented were simply haunting. Zia could almost feel the delirium of raging anger mixed with the consuming despair that had tormented Asya in the days she had been living as Asya, for who knew what the current reincarnation's state of mind was. Whoever Asya truly had been in that life, or even in this current reincarnation, she knew something. A secret that had been buried for a reason, and though Zia desired to know what it was that tore at the girl's mind she also felt a sense that perhaps she was meddling in something that was best left unchallenged. However, the time of peace was at an end. By abducting Setne the rogues had made their intent clear. Their time of lying low was at an end and...and well that was the issue neither she nor Carter could come up with an idea for what had caused their sudden change in attitude or what exactly they had in mind of doing. For the past few millennia, though, relations between Egypt and the rogues were tense there had been no true challenge raised until now. Looking at the paintings Zia vaguely sensed that the reason they're had been seeking for why the rogues disliked Egypt so was explained by these three images. It seemed Asya enjoyed telling them everything and nothing at the same time for Zia couldn't connect the three though she was sure they fit. Zia was squatting down in front of them, her gaze stuck on one in particular. On what looked to be an Egyptian temple at dusk. She could see sphinxes, columns, and several large statues of the gods. "So did she have any connection to Egypt?" Zia asked Lillian.

Lillian only stared at them in perplexment. "I'm afraid not. They weren't very interested in the past."

"Then why did she paint this?" Carter prodded. After all it's unlikely you would paint an ancient temple not having care, no matter how small that said amount of care was.

Lillian was smiling, but just under the surface Carter could tell she wanted to claw their faces off. The smile that sent shivers down his back. It was not human. He was wrong. Wrong in his previous assessment of Ms. Davis. wasn't nice, and the secret killer on the side type wasn't as far off as he had first thought.

"You're a rogue aren't you?" Carter inquired.

Lillian chuckled, "Of course, my young pharaoh."

Zia reached for her staff from the Duat but it wouldn't come. "Carter," she called. Likewise he had tried to pull his khopesh but it didn't come either. He looked at Lillian, but she hadn't moved. Her inhuman gaze watched them, finding amusement in their fussing over her.

Suspiciously he eyed the real estate agent warily. "Why aren't you attacking us?" he beseeched.

Lillian manically grinned. "The lady says you're not to be harmed, and that I'm to show the house."

"Why?"

"It amuses her."

Carter looked down at the pictures that sat on the floor. One was of a village among black pastures on fire, wait no, it was actually the whole sky that was on fire and those weren't pastures. He tasted vomit at the back of his throat. The thing he had taken to be pastures were in fact fields of ash and the village, not a village. A graveyard of bones. Not caring to dwell on whatever it was Asya had painted he moved on to the other painting, a portrait of a young girl. Tan-skinned, brown-eyed, freckled cheeks and with a familiar look about her.

"The girl looks a bit like Roselle," Zia remarked.

"Who?" Carter asked.

"Marisol's daughter. The two look like they could be sisters." Marisol's daughter, of course, now he remembered. Yes, that was it. The girl resembled Roselle a great deal, enough that if he hadn't known better like Zia suggested the two could be siblings, cousins, or blood relations of some sort.

Zia fiercely looked up at Lillian asking, "Who was this girl?"

"Lucia." The response was cold. Bitter. It would bring me great joy to flay you alive dislike.

"And…"

"And what?" Lillian asked in mock ignorance.

"Who was she? Her parents, her life, where she was from, those kind of things," Carter listed.

"She died. That's the most important thing she ever did," the rogue growled.

Zia stared at her in horror. "How can you speak so heartlessly? She was a child."

Nodding Lillian stiffly continued, that forced smile had disappeared, she was done with her saccharine façade. What now she spoke to Carter was nothing but harsh honesty. "I'm quite aware, but I'm only speaking the truth. Dying was the only thing she ever did worth mentioning."

"And why is that?" Zia frowned.

"Her death was the last insult my people tolerated from yours." Carter's squeezed his eyes shut and his stomach churned. His ancestors had killed that girl,and he didn't need to see the deep-rooted hatred in Lillian's eye to he know it was true in his gut. It was easy to give into the glory that Egypt so proudly displayed but empires hurt people especially the innocent in their pursuits for greatness.

"Why did they do it?" he murmured. What could a little girl possibly have done to deserve death? She was a child, the picture of innocence.

"Your people weren't content with taking our home from us. Apparently, we needed to suffer more, so you killed the lady's daughter."

Zia's eyes bore into those of the girl in the portrait. "How old was she?" she solemnly asked.

"Four and half in the portrait. Six when she died."

Zia turned to Carter and stiffly stated. "We should move on."

As they exited Carter placed a hand on Lillian's shoulder. "Egypt was yours before it was ours then?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the homeland you took, young one."

"Was your homeland beautiful?" Carter continued. Glancing over at the portrait of ash and bone she nostalgically nodded. He bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry," he apologizing for the crimes of his ancestors.

"I know," Lillian placidly replied, "and we forgave you many years ago. It not like our kind to judge a people upon the heinous act of one."

"Then may we be friends?" Carter hopefully inquired.

It seemed they had no desire for violence or strife so he thought that perhaps a peace could be reached until Lillian heartily laughed. "My lady would love for that to be, but I'm afraid the lady's price won't be too your liking."

Carter frowned asking, "Why not?"

"You'll see," was all she said in response, leading them downstairs to the parlor.

Of all the rooms in the manor it was this one that impressed him most. Under the cathedral ceiling ticking and tocking a great grandfather welcomed them into the parlor where Victorian couches lazily lounged in front of a tall fireplace whose a mantle was lined with statues of fearsome beasts while a brilliant mural of a forested realm wrapped around the room. Most captivating of all though was the portrait that hung over the mantle. Against a gray backdrop a middle aged man glumly sat in plum armchair as a young girl stood rigidly straight beside him. Logically this was Vadim. Well then, Vadim had a straight nose and a somber frown, and those were the least interesting characteristics of his appearance. Tattoos covered all of what little revealed skin there was and one tattoo, it was of some sort of red canine, was conveniently hidden beneath a scraggly beard. The man also didn't dress as his status insisted. Instead the gray-black suit he wore was shabby in its patched up and wrinkled state. Not to mention, his level of hygiene left much to be desired with dirt-covered skin and greasy black hair that hung far past his shoulders. Now the girl beside him , she shared the same grim expression, but that's where similiarities ended. Carter found himself speechless looking at the girl in twenty's style violet dress and stiff caramel curls, hardly believing what he was seeing to be true. The girl, Asya he presumed, she…he was looking at Sadie. Well, almost. She didn't have Sadie's eyes. Yes, both girls had blue eyes, but Asya's were sterner and without the mischievous glimmer Sadie's had, not to mention were just a shade lighter. He had seen these eyes before, but the when evaded him before it didn't.

Walt's funeral. The business man from Chicago had his wife and daughter with him, and the daughter she had been sitting next to Walt's mom the whole service. Comforting Ms. Stone while also staring at the back pews at them, at him. Now he hadn't gotten a good look at her, she avoided him like the plague after the service's conclusion. He couldn't remember the color of her hair (Auburn? Or was she a brunette?) or even her age (It was around Sadie's, though.) but the one thing he could remember for certain was the color of her eyes. Staring at him unblinkingly they had burned themselves into his memory. They were both knowing and ageless. First they had looked at him, but then changed their focus to his sister, who was leaning on Anubis. The girl's eyes narrowed loathing the blood that pumped through him and his sister, and hating the name of his father's ancestors, Kane. Carter never heard what name she was called. A name would've been nice, but now at least he knew who the reincarnation was. She's the daughter of a Chicago businessman, the girl at Walt's funeral, that was little to go on.

"Beautiful isn't it. It's one of a pair. The other had been in the foyer, but was sold off to a Frenchman at the auction," Lillian commented noting Zia's interest in the clock.

'Where day meets night what was stolen but forgotten by those who shall seek it in time hides.'

A clock, in time. No…Asya would've had been that obvious would she? Simone had came to them, though. It was possible, but it felt too easy. Unless, oh that made sense. This was her game and they were the pieces. They had been practically led here to where day meets night… the clock face was round and rotating, but was broken so it no longer rotating just stuck at the three and the nine. One half was golden with puffy illuminated clouds in shades of dusky yellow, orange, purple, and pink surrounding a centered sun split in half so the other side was the moon surrounding by a sprinkling of other twinkling stars set again the blackness of night. Two hands however had continued keeping time but the circle that held them together also seemed to have a…keyhole. Zia too had seen this, but as Lillian was beside her she was reluncatant to test her theory. Lillian moved on though, stepping out of the room. Carter got the hint. This what the rogues wanted and he hated they're predicament, but he had already realized they were only going to learn what they were allowed to learn so...

"Zia, try it."

Zia nodded, taking the key left to Walt from her jacket's pocket. She fit it into the keyhole and like they had thought it fit perfectly. Turning the key, there was metallic click and the clock face swung open with a sharp squeal from the tired hinges to reveal a hidden compartment. Reaching into the blackness where the 0ears and parts should've been she pulled out a doll. A porcelain doll with carmel blonde hair and blue eyes, with streaks of color in carmel blonde hair. Frowning Zia pulled out yet another note. Which she read aloud.

"Dear Carter, I know that you will find this on Thursday, August 15, at 2:33 PM Pacific time, no? You found my dollie, I hope. Isn't she lovely? Does she remind you of anyone you know? Such as, I don't know, that sweet sister of yours, Sadie. Oh, Sadie. What fun we'll have. Carter, please understand she's given me no choice. I've gone down this road before, it isn't pretty. You saw the painting, so you see I have to kill her. It's a much more merciful fate than one ridden with the guilt of what will happen if she doesn't die. Oh, and I also have to destroy her soul, so it doesn't get reincarnated again. Sorry, can't have her going to the Hall of Judgement. It's nothing personal. Well except, it sort of is, but we'll discuss that a later date. Regrettably Your Truest Friend, Anastasiya Volkom Stone P.S. By the time you've read this I've already abducted another friend of yours, a godly one. So you rush home to protect your sister now and come up with some futile attempt to vanguish me, but trust me it won't work. All the magic in the world won't help you, but if you must could you at least please make it worth my time, Kane."

Carter's eyes went wide. "Lillian!" he cried in vain. There was no point; she was long gone. A god was kidnapped and Asya was planning to kill his sister. Lillian had told him he wouldn't like the price of friendship, how right she had been. He had to get back to Sadie.

"Carter, wait," Zia calmly pleaded. The note angered her as well but she was better at keeping emotions in check.

"Wait, she wants to kill my sister!" Carter protested.

Zia frowned, "I know, but let me grab the paintings first. They seemed to be our best clue to what's going on."

Carter nodded. After collecting the paintings the two made their way back down the driveway to where Lillian's car sat still parked. The keys were in the ignition just waiting for them. Carter had to give Asya a hand. Since there were no Egyptian artifacts or things of that sort he and Zia would have to head to Seattle to open a portal and Seattle was a good forty-minute drive from the manor. Sure it gave them plenty time to talk but he didn't want to talk he wanted to be in Brooklyn making sure his sister was alright, and to make it even worse the batteries in their cellphones both seemed to have died all of a sudden. Carter was a good deal over the speed limit and the rain wasn't showing signs of winding down. He was thinking how could the day get any worse when a sudden flash of lightning felled a tree so it landed right in front of the bug. It happened too quickly, and, though, he stepped on the brakes as quick as he was able they still went crashing into the broken limbs of the tree.

Blinking his eyes open Carter didn't see the branches of a tree nor a sterile hospital room. Instead he saw a women. If he turned his head her silhouette flickered. He could see through her skin. Slender and willowy, she had an inhuman grace, but she was not a god. A rogue? Her emerald eyes were watching him with the sincerest concern. A solemn frown pitied him as she gently whispered something he couldn't understand. It was a language older than Ancient Egyptian; though, he felt it. The words were pure magic, more divine than the divine words that every magician sought one day to be able to speak, seeped through his essence, enveloping him in a blanket of warm soothing calmness that numbed his woes and healed his scars. As the magic lulled him into a deep peaceful sleep he heard the woman whisper one last thing, and she spoke in English so he was able to understand. Upon waking he found himself on one of the beds in Brooklyn House's infirmary. He didn't remember opening a portal unless... Carter quickly glanced over his arms and legs. Nothing, like the branches splintering, the cracking of the windshield, and the crushing cushioning from the air bags had all been a bad dream.

"Carter," Zia softly murmured, "did you see her?" His eyes jumped to the source of her voice. She was on the bed beside, like him without injury.

Carter's lip trembled as he weakly replied, "Yes."

"And did she say...?"

"Do not repeat your ancestor's crime. Spare her child," Carter recited.

Zia leaned her head back against the pillow asking, "Who was that woman?"

Despondently he shook his head. "I've no idea." He had one, though, the lady that Lillian had spoke of. Was the woman they had seen, the lady Lillian had spoke of?


	17. Dawn in Chicago

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles and neither do I own the song.**

**Author's Note: The lyrics are to the latter half of song, The Wicked Sister by Meav and I used it to set the mood. For fans of Celtic Woman you might recognize who that singer is. Changing topic I apologize for my hectic schedule for updating and since school is coming up I can't say it will get any better since it depends how hard classes are this year. Any way this week it's been an unpleasant/tiring/I just really want to go home time for me. It started with orientation where I found out my best friend since elementary just transferred schools and didn't bother telling me and that my schedule was funny yet again, and then I was also forced to go on another roadtrip, this one to New York (not the city, upstate, Lake Placid) and it took an extra day to get home (12:15 AM was when we finally got home) and on the road we nearly lost the windshield of the boat we were towing after a dreadful downpour and got stuck in traffic in Cleveland so right now I'm tired and miffed that I still have AP stuff to do. So I hope you're having a better time than I have and please review. I always love to hear from you.**

"_A minstrel walking by the strand__  
_Saw her body float to land_  
_When he looked that lady on_  
_He sighed and made a heavy moan__

_He made a harp of her breastbone_  
_Whose sound would melt a heart of stone_  
_Took the strands of her bright hair_  
_And with them strung his harp so rare_

_He brought the harp to the wedding hall_  
_There to play before them all_  
_When they set it on a stone_  
_The harp began to play alone_

_The strings sang out a dreadful sound_  
_"The bride her younger sister drowned_  
_Now her secret you all know_  
_Her guilty tears will surely flow_"

The words of the eerie song returned her to the past. To the memories that threatened to consume all reason she possessed. Back to the day when the dying shrieks filled her ears while the smell of ash and rotting flesh clogged her nostrils. Almost to the point that she nearly forgot that if she were to open her eyes she would be in her father's Chicago office, leaning back in the blue velvet armchair that held its ground behind the mahogany desk with the papers of her father's most recently business endeavors in neatly spread piles across it's surface, even if the world was coming to an end her father stubbornly held to his belief that there was never any excuse for sloppiness. Her back would be to the glass pane window and the tall oak door to the office in front of her. Perhaps it was unprofessional to be listening to music, but they were running late and her anxiety had only grown over the past months, she had kept it together longer than usual but she had been slipping ever since he left her bed and decided on being faithful to his fiancé.

It was so painful to smile, to laugh, to act happy as she had to watch him belong to that spoiled fool and not rightfully as he should've to her. In temporary reprieve she let her sorrows be forgotten amongst the eerie woe of the song. She knew that in the song the sister had committed the murder out of jealousy, but... the memories came. Too much. Wouldn't it be nice to forget, to move on, to pretend the past hadn't happened? That the dying shrieks were imagined and really only the gulls squawking over crumbs near the lake, that the princess's blood had never stained her hands and that she wouldn't never consider killing Sadie because they were the best of friends, and that the queen had never sacrificed herself and Eugracia would walk in any minute now to ask about her daughter, Lucia, and she would answer that Lucia was holding a tea party with her little sisters and their collection of dolls. Only sometimes was she able to convince herself the memories were only exaggerated nightmares. The rest of the time she recognized them for what they were, horrid fact. The reality she had to live with, for it was of her doing it came to be, but it was the princess's fault. She hadn't abided the rules. The rules that had been supposed to prevent what happened. Sadie had to die. It couldn't happen again. Anubis could be brought to see the logic of the decision, he wasn't...but the...who was he now? Maybe a sliver of him was left, but was it enough to stop what the past promised. To stop the...

_The sky was blue. Blue fire. Mother, father, child. Screaming and pointless prayers. Going to die and nothing to be done. All gone. He held her tight, his tan arms wrapped around her waist, watching like her the oil's surface where they stood witness to the dying moments of her planet. "Aka," he whispered, kissing her neck telling her that they were still alive, that there were others still alive...but she knew there were also so many more dead. Love. Death. Mortal. God. It was black and white how this happened. A silly girl and a reckless god. It was too late to change what they did. The queen was dead, and now she was queen. She who held the knife, who went too far when all she was trying to do was prevent this from occurring, who had done has she was bid to and...she was queen._

_She crumpled to the floor. Soothing words and his fingers running through the tangled auburn mess that was her hair. A cool wet cloth ran over her skin. Taking from it the blood and grime. But not the anger, the resentment, the sorrow, or the grief. She hurt. A painful numbness. Words couldn't come. There was nothing to say that could convey how wrong...tears fell without thought. Hot, stinging to the retina, and the deft soft fingers of her love just wiped them away. Kissing her forehead and pulling her up, helping her stumble over to the blanket, allowing her to roll up to ball. He let her lay there, and didn't push her to talk. He knew what loss felt like, and knew her better than any one else. Thus well aware that his presence beside her was the only comfort she was going to accept. Holding it in was a specialty of hers. Wearing a false name and forced to evade mention of her parentage during a childhood that he couldn't envy had refined this art._

_He watched her through the night. Her blue eyes blankly stared ahead at the black fabric wall of the tent, not seeing the tent but what was to come. The princess's father still lived as well as the brother. Aka would pay them the same kindness their kin had show her own. Egypt was going to burn, and her husband's uncle's reign would be at an end. _

"Milady," the husky voice of one the hired abductors ventured, stealing her away from the solitude provided in her mind and back to the cruel reality she was doomed to. A reality where the two muscular goons she herself had hired had forcefully pushed their captive in his lab coat and jeans to his knees. With an aloof gesture she gave the order for them to remove the sack that covered the captive's face as she stood, a silhouette against Chicago's skyline where dawn had just begun to bob above the ebbed waves of Lake Michigan. As her heeled steps resounded sharply off the copper-colored tiles as she strolled over to the god, wearing an exceedingly friendly smile before smugly jeering, "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Egyptian wise guy who graces our humble selves today with his godly presence."

The god of wisdom warily looked her over before asking, "Do I know you?"

The girl laughed, delighted with the confusion her person provided him. "No, but then again it's possible that maybe you've heard the name I've taken to using nowadays, but I wouldn't dare fancy you would recognize me as I am. Therefore it's not too shocking that confounded expression you're wearing, especially since I'm not the sniveling pathetic girl you knew me to be a lifetime ago."

"Simone Durand," he whispered. Her lips curled in undisguised disgust as her eyes bore into him like the cold ice they so resembled. He somewhat thrown off. Simone had been more than half mad at eleven but this girl had all her wits about her and must be nineteen, early twenties. "Why? Who are you doing this for, Simone?" he intrepidly inquired.

"That's not my name!" she angrily spat. As quick as the anger came it left, leaving in its stead only remorse of her involuntary rashness. "Myself this time. Once for Set and my queen, but…" her voice was distant remembering that long ago place now only capable of being visited in memory, "that was before."

The god studied her, torn between pity and mistrust. "What am I doing here?"

The girl that had once been Simone came closer squatting low enough that their faces were level. "Oh, don't worry, babe. It's nothing out of your comfort zone, Djehuti. Just research."

"And here I was thinking that you wanted to help us," Thoth bemoaned. Simone had such potential, he couldn't grasp why she was throwing it all away. Unless, of course, she wasn't, but then what was she doing?

The girl clucked as she teasingly shook her head. "Who said I wasn't, brother?" she crooned as a lazy finger caressed his check. "Pick him up," she sharply ordering rising to her full height. He was roughly pulled him to his feet, the goon's quick to the order. Simone smiled before lightly kissing his cheek. "Now behave yourself, Djehuti. The Les Cheneaux Islands are beautiful this time of year. Maybe, if you're an especially good boy they'll take you on a boat ride to Mackinaw. The fudge there is delicious. One of my personal favorites is Murdick's Double Chocolate Caramel Sea Salt." She gave the nod and the sack was thrown back over his head and the god dragged away.

Alone once more, she returned to her vigil at the window. Below the city roared with the daily lives of thousands and to the east the lake stood still waiting like her for a storm to break its calm. The glass in the window reflected back her own image and unlike so many of her lives it wasn't just another's face looking back at her but her own. The face that had been made a queen and died a starved beggar. This wasn't just another reincarnation and she didn't need to see her face to tell her that. That haughtly princess was in New York, very much alive, very much just asking for fate to repeat itself. Not only alive either, but with him… her husband. He hadn't recognized her, and neither had the princess. The girl didn't cry, she had cried enough in her first life. She had also died in his arms, but that didn't seem to leave any imprint in his memories either.

Her perfect manicured fingertips wistfully brushed the glass pane. "We'll be together soon, my love," she promised the future, "history won't repeat its self the same way twice. We'll be together." She spoke conclusively because she had to because she couldn't give in to the doubt that was lingering.

She sadly chuckled. "What fools your people are, my love," tears threatened to drip down her cheeks as she angrily rolled her eyes fighting them to hold back, continuing her morose sentiment,"and like them you're content to believe I'm the one who's cursed, when in truth it's always been them and you. I'm the just the overseer, but soon, and soon it will be. The waiting is nearing its end as truth always makes itself known at some point and time. We're delusional fools to dare think otherwise."

"My queen?" Oliver, but he was supposed to be in Denmark visiting their Aunt Ophelia.

"Yes?" She didn't turn around to look who was speaking to her. Oliver wasn't someone she needed to turn around for. He understood that it didn't matter, his presence here, for there was only two ways this whole thing was going to end. With everyone dead, or with only the princess's fatality. Either way Sadie Kane's prospects weren't all that good, unless, of course... but Ienpw showed no signs of waking and she had been doing her best to subtly drive a wedge between the two for several years now. She gave him a freaking daughter and still…nothing. Well, not nothing, sometimes. she saw a glimmer of something, but that disappeared quick enough.

"You should leave if you don't want to be late for your flight back to New York," Oliver prompted.

Marisol nodded. "Thanks, Ollie." As she made to leave the room she grabbed his arm in a tight grip. His light blue eyes locked with hers. "Oversee that our friend, Thoth arrives safely. He is not to be assaulted in any further manner once he reaches the cabin, is that understood?"

Oliver smiled in assurance. "As you command, Ms. Aka."


	18. Dinner and Stuff

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's Note: Thankfully homework was light tonight, so I could wrap up the revising of this chapter. I hope everyone is doing as fine as possible and if you wouldn't mind it would be nice of you to review. **

"It was nice of that you invited us over for dinner," Anubis affably commented, taking another rather hefty serving of Marisol's turkey casserole. Nice, yes. Unusual, hmm… Now it could be that Marisol was just being nice like always or she wanted something. Considering who it was Marisol that was hosting, deciphering between the two was rather impossible, and since there was no reason on Sadie's part why they wouldn't go here he was. For him this evening was awkward, to say the least, how could it not his ex-lover and their daughter was at the same table as Sadie and him. Across from him Marisol was immaculately dressed in a navy blue short-sleeved dress with a fluttery skirt longer in the back than in the front worn under a simple white polka-dotted black sweater, because he had seen her in this dress before he was aware there was a heart cutout on the center of her back. For a friend who rarely invited them over Marisol had gone overboard with a lace tablecloth and candlesticks. Somehow looking at the table settings left a funny feeling in his stomach, a feeling not bad, but more like he had overlooked something.

"Well, as glad as I am that you like my casserole, don't you think you might want to try to save room for dessert, babe," Marisol gently teased to which Sadie briefly chuckled before making a brief comment on how he couldn't possibly have any room at all considering how much Marisol had so kindly provided, now Sadie wasn't exaggerating for it was like Marisol had decided to have Thanksgiving in mid August. Oh, Marisol hadn't just cooked a casserole; no, she had only prepared a multi-course meal starting off with salad, cheese, and bread before moving on to a soup course and then finally the casserole. In the kitchen Anubis didn't doubt there was some dessert just waiting for its crumb to be scraped off plates.

He shook his hopelessly, the conversation lost to his interest. His focus was elsewhere, or to be more exact it was admiring what a rich hue Marisol's hair was in the candles flickering and what a lovely curve her smile brought to her lips, a mistake. Her smile was nice. He had forgotten how pretty her dimples were when she smiled, or the small gap between her front teeth, and how her teeth were slightly uneven, to the point where no doubt she had been told well they could do the work, but since it was perfectly fine as it was it wasn't all that necessary. He was glad that was case; he loved her smile as it was and couldn't see how it could've been any more beautiful.

"Marisol, you know how you use the word babe so frequently?" Sadie inquired, a telling smirk on her lips. A jolt of embarrassed panic restored the clarity to his mind. Had Sadie caught notice of where it was his eye had so fallen. No, she was too much herself to have noticed. Anubis had feared that his mind would betray him like this, by shutting Marisol out he had thought it would help and it had…when he wasn't around her. Without her around, what was that old saying the humans had, ah yes, 'out of sight, out of mind' it was working only too well for him, except now when she was sitting across from him where he couldn't pretend he didn't see her. What had he been thinking? She was perfect. Reprimanding his waywardly thoughts he reminded himself that his fiancé had brought up that little slip he made last night, when he had used a word so common in Marisol's vocabulary. Ugh, how could he have done something so stupid and obvious? In the corner of his eyes, which had retreated to examining the elegant curls and lines that decorated the silver fork's base he saw the auburn nodding. He nervously gulped.

"Guess who picked up the habit?" Sadie lightheartedly challenged, her blue eyes thrown over towards him.

Marisol gingerly followed her friend's gaze to meet his before raising a canny eyebrow. She pointedly asked, "Is that true, Anubis?" and underneath she also asked how much Sadie now knew.

Shoving a heavy forkful into his mouth Anubis mumbled, "This is really good casserole," which was enough to answer both questions.

"I can agree with that," Sadie amicably remarked her hand automatically placing itself atop his. Was he being paranoid or had Marisol flinched when the hand touched his? Probably, since Sadie didn't look to have noticed anything, if she had, they no doubt would've have heard of it by now.

Setting his fork down on the white porcelain of the rose adorned plate Anubis hesitantly glanced over at Roselle who was quietly prodding at her plate being the model child for the that Victorian Age ideal where children should be seen and not heard. The wavy dark hair of his daughter had been tucked into a casually elegant bun and a slender black headband dotted with three hearts glued to the band was tucked behind her ears that stuck out just like his. In her dress she looked like an upside down cupcake. Seriously where had Marisol found such a hideous puffy hot pink dress that must've been dropped in a vat of glitter, and better yet why had she bought the atrocity for their daughter? To which he instantly realized the answer. The dress was more than an adequate distraction for Sadie's attention, in the hopes the any likelihood of Sadie noticing any resemblance between Roselle and himself could be lessened. Whenever Roselle looked up, she was gazed through the window, and avoided him and Sadie. Her doll was absent, an unusual development since it had never parted from her side since Marisol had given it to her on her third birthday.

"Where's your doll, Ro?" he curiously inquired.

His question startled the child. She glanced at him warily to make sure that he had in fact raised a question, and it hadn't been her imagination getting the better of her. Upon realizing there had been a question Roselle smiled at him, glad for however small an acknowledgment he had given her. He sadly realized it was the first time he head spoken to her in months. "Eugracia is already sleeping. She was tired and didn't feel up to dinner, so I tucked her in early," Roselle tactfully explained. A smile came easy to his lips, he loved Roselle. He loved her innocence, that smile so like her mother's, and the way she giggled and curled into a ball when tickled be it on her toesies or on her tum.

"Anubis…" Sadie repeated.

"Yes?" he started.

"Do you remember the name of that Mexican place you took me to today for lunch?" Sadie asked.

He shook his head. "Sorry," he coolly replied, "I'm afraid it's slipped my mind."

Sadie nodded. "Mine as well. Anyway, Marisol, it was simply charming and the food was great, though, not as great as your casserole."

He had forgotten how quick a smile came to Marisol's lips. How when she was pleased a pale blush would spread across her cheeks. How adorable her dimples and freckles were and that nervous habit she had of tucking her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes locked on Sadie's as she commented, "Thank you, it was of the first things I learned to cook from my mother."

Sadie laughed. "Oh, really. So what would it take to talk you into sharing the recipe."

Marisol shook her head. "Sorry, it's a secret recipe, and you cook?" which was received by hearty laughter from Sadie.

Leaning back in her chair Sadie's gaze wandered over to Roselle. "So what about it, Ro, I'll give you twenty dollars," Sadie bribed.

Roselle frowned in disgust. "And risk losing dessert for a year, never," the child scoffed, which in turn made everyone laugh.

"Talking about dessert, I think we're all pretty much done, unless, of course, Anubis feels like fourths."

Anubis groaned. "Dessert sounds great, Marisol."

"Lovely, I'll be right back then." Her absence left Anubis and Sadie alone with Roselle. Anubis hated seeing the blatant disgust in Roselle's eyes as she watched Sadie lean over and pecked his cheek.

"What would we do without Marisol, such a doll," Sadie amicably remarked about their friend who was clunking around the kitchen. If only you knew, Anubis thought to himself. Roselle looked to be having similar thoughts as she serenely at them, a secret taunting them in her eyes.

"Yeah, what would we do without her, "Anubis uneasily agreed. Not be in this web of lies, he silently added in his mind. Then again he hadn't had to kiss her, so he was just as in the wrong. How much longer was she going to be? The clatter of plate grabbing and the jingle of the silverware had diminished several minutes ago.

Like she had his thoughts Marisol suddenly returned, nimbly placing small plates heaped with ice cream and brownie in front of each setting. As Marisol made to set the plate down in front of Sadie, his fiancé jokingly remarked, "If I didn't know better I'd say that you're trying to fatten me up so my dress won't fit on my wedding day."

"I doubt that, babe." At which Roselle loudly laughed.

"Sorry, did I miss something?" Sadie suspiciously pondered.

Marisol quickly shook her head answering, "No, you know how children are," as she tickled her daughter's stomach, resulting in a fit of giggles from both of them. Kissing Roselle's cheek she sat back down .

The browning, warm and moist, gooey and drenched with ice cream just melted in his mouth, and looking over at Sadie's plate she had likewise enjoyed the dish.

As the night wore on the conversation became crazier as sleep depravity starting kicking in, and Marisol soon sent Roselle off to bed. At around this time Sadie started feeling not to well...in the bowels.

"Marisol, excuse me, can I use the loo?" Sadie asked.

"Go right ahead," Marisol stated, "Are you okay?" Sadie nodded, though by her rush to the toilet it was clear she wasn't. The bathroom door locked the living room Anubis found himself sitting awkwardly beside Marisol on the her couch opposite the T.V., a predicament so much like the one that created Roselle. His eyes wandered around the apartment resisting the temptation of meeting his former lover's eyes when his eyes came upon a familiar piece of clockwork.

"Isn't that the clock from your parent's apartment?" he pried. He knew the answer was yes, but what was it doing here?

"It is," she softly answered. As he attempted eye contact her eyes decided to avoid his.

"So why is it here?"

"My parents thought I'd like to have it, but don't worry they'll get it back when we join them?"

"Join them?" By this time Marisol had gotten up from the table and moved to the window in hopes to put distance between them, but he had followed her to the window grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to look back at him.

Not able to avoid him she answered, "Yeah, in Chicago."

He felt like he'd been run over by a bus. She was leaving. Then Roselle was leaving. No, no, but he couldn't lose them. He had to be able see them, make sure they were okay. If they went to Chicago then if he married Sadie, well, he couldn't be making too many visits to Chicago without questions being raised, questions that he, no they couldn't afford.

"How soon?" he desperately implored.

"Just after your wedding," Marisol murmured.

"No," he murmured. Not knowing whether it was a result of his desperate of the need to hold her to him so she would be unable to go or just their general closeness that lured him to do so. They were no longer lovers, yet he couldn't think of her being hundred, thousands of miles away. He knew it was better for her, staying here was only hurting her, but at the same time his mind couldn't process her leaving.

Despite whatever his wayward mind was thinking it was processing or better his mind wasn't was taking it all that well. He could've tell her that was great and good luck, or he could say that was a shame, but asking her to stay would be selfish, there was no working any scenario where it wasn't, yet it wasn't as selfish as what he did. He kissed her. His hand holding her face and for a moment it was bliss. Her hand resting on his chest. Clutching the fabric of his shirt she pulled him closer to her before suddenly shoving him off her. Hard, too, but not as hard as her eyes that bore back into his. Marisol was absolutely livid. Anubis could only stare her in shock for he had never seen her mad, especially at him.

"What the fuck, Anubis? Your fiancé is in my bathroom!" Marisol said as angrily as her hushed tone permitted.

And swearing, whoa. Sadie's temper still scared him more, but he felt worse with Marisol's yelling at him like it broke some law of nature. Shaking his head he softly pleaded with her, "Don't move to Chicago. Please, I can't bear losing you and Roselle." He grabbed her arm and apologetically kissed her wrist. Though she didn't snatch it away from him her stare had the look of trying not to be but nonetheless was repulsed by him.

Her lips smiled sadly as she crisply commented, "Then don't marry Sadie."

He dropped her wrist and stared at her speechless. "Marisol, you know that's not an option."

"Yeah, and neither is my staying."

"Marisol."

"You made your choice, Anubis. Now live with it," Marisol scolded him.

"Live with it," Anubis repeated in disbelief before turning to annoyance. "Live with it, Marisol. What do you think I've been doing? Why do you think I stopped seeing you? Do you think I stopped loving you because I haven't? I'm still uncontrollably madly in love with you."

Marisol shook her head angrily. "You still don't get it, Anubis stopping your nightly visits with me isn't all there is to living with your choice. In fact you're not even living with it." At this point she hysterically broke into a chorus of angry delirious chuckles.

"If I've not living with it then tell me what I'm doing?" Anubis growled.

She was still laughing. "Ignoring it."

The miffed annoyance with his lover faded. Ignoring it. Was that true? Reflecting back on the past few months he couldn't deny it. He had been living a sham, playing the devoted fiancé to Sadie while Marisol... Ignoring it.

Marisol wasn't finished with the stinging remarks, but Anubis wasn't angered by them. "Actually Sadie deserves you. Both are you are so self-centered, caught up with your own problems that you don't notice the problems of anyone else. I swear if I have to hear one more complaint about the tragic saga of Sadie Kane's daily life..."

"I'm self-centered? Oh really, how?" Anubis asked, raising an eyebrow. Him, self-centered, who did she thinking she was speaking of, Horus. She shook her head and harshly asked, " Have you ever thought about your choice impacts the people close to you?"

Anubis glanced away from her. She knew him so well. Running a hand through his hair he began, "Marisol…"

She sighed, her anger had begun to wane. "As I thought. I don't know if you've realized that you've put me through hell as long we've known one another. I mean seriously, I was fourteen when I had Roselle," she was crying now," and, and I've lied for you to my friend so long I can't remember a time when I wasn't lying someway to her, and throughout it all I've never once complained for myself as I've..."

"You could have, you know, complained. I wouldn't have cared."

Marisol raised an eyebrow. Wouldn't have cared, could he have chosen worse diction.

Anubis shook his head and gently added, "No, I would have cared. What I meant to say is I wouldn't have minded."

Marisol shook her head. "No, my problems… I don't think…" Whatever she was holding back she wouldn't tell. It programmed into her. Anubis had caught onto that. Marisol was good, too good. She kept secrets without second thought and didn't complain or argue much. So controlled and reserved, and tonight there had been a spider crack in the persona she portrayed, but the clean cut good person she made herself be was returning. Why did she feel she couldn't be herself? "Anubis, I'm not the only one being hurt by you keeping us a secret. Think about Roselle, she loves you. It's...I don't to tell you how she feels, you know what it's like after all, you're parents did the same to you so I won't press it, but just so you know you're hurting Sadie as well. By not telling her now, yes, I understand that you're trying to protect her, but in truth you're only making it worse the longer you wait to tell her, and god forbid she finds out from someone other than you."

"I tried to tell her," Anubis murmured.

"But?"

"I just couldn't," Anubis finished just as the flush of a toilet came from the bathroom. Marisol wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her sweater.

A minute later a pale Sadie stumbled into the living room. She glanced warily at Marisol before stating, "You might not want to go in there for a while." Then turned to her attention over to Anubis. "Can we go home? I'm afraid I'm not feeling all that well."

Anubis pertly nodded, taking note of Sadie's feverish disposition, "Of course, Sadie."

Marisol glanced quickly at Anubis then Sadie. "Wait, there's one thing I wanted to ask of you."

Sadie attempted a smile but was obviously too miserable with in her bowels to manage one.

"Yes, Marisol?" she wearily inquired.

"Could you watch Roselle for a while? I have to go out of town and there's no one…"

"We'd love to," Anubis interjected.

Anubis nodded, answering, "It'd be good practice for when we have children of our own." He tried to pretend he hadn't seen the glimmer of pain flash through Marisol's eyes during that last part.

"How long?" Sadie dubiously inquired.

"About a week."

"Oh."

"A relative's dying," Marisol stated. "Sorry, just one more thing, Anubis would you mind stepping into the study. There's something I have for you."

He gruffly nodded. "Sure."

After closing the study's door behind her she crossed over to the desk and plucked up a large manila envelope. "This is for your honeymoon. First-class to Hawaii."

Anubis didn't know what to say. Marisol was…he was a horrible god. He had treated this girl like she was…a number of things. Every name though didn't feel right in his mouth. Marisol wasn't a slut or whore, she was lovely. Lovely in the way she loved him though the only thing he had ever done to her was mess up her life. It was perfect before him, no doubt. Maybe all he did was mess up people's lives. After all how lives had been better without him. His mother, his aunt and uncle, and now Sadie's as well as Roselle's. "Thanks." Thanks. He held his hand out to take the envelope, but she placed it back on the desk.

He watched her curiously. The smile that met his eyes was smug as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him. He felt the desire and passion she had forced down for so long. He forgot about Sadie in the living room and the gods with their rules as the part of him that desired Marisol's flesh in a way it could never crave Sadie took over his mind. Stronger and needier than it had ever been. He couldn't remember his own name, but it wasn't Anubis, no. His mind was overwhelmed, attacked by a sudden surge of memories that left him as violently as they had rushed him as his lips parted from Marisol's. Memories of Marisol, but not Marisol and he was in them? Shaking he held her warily at arm's length. The words she spoke so quiet under the thudding beating of his heart.

"About earlier, that wasn't me. I'm sorry, but Anubis I couldn't help it. I love you," Marisol stated. Her eyes searched his desperately, "Are you alright?"

He slowly shook his head. Why did he had memories of her that he didn't know existed? "Did you see them?"

She couldn't have looked more confused, and then something came to her. "Ienpw?" she hopefully inquired, her eyes looking deep into his.

"Who?" Ienpw, Ienpw, why was that familiar? On the oldest temples, yes, it was his name. How had he forgotten that? His mind was numb, confused and lost, and mad like he had been robbed of something, no like someone had stolen who he was.

Marisol frowned, "Oh, I see. Forget it, it…no longer matters."

His grip of her arm tightened, "Tell me?"

She shook her head, "You're hurting me, please."

"Tell me?" he begged. She had to tell him. He had to know.

Marisol was close to tears, her head was still shaking, "I can't, Ien— Anubis. It's not something I can answer for you, it something you have to answer for yourself?"

"I-I what do you mean?"

"Anubis, who are you?" she asked. Who was he? He was the god of funerals and weigher of the scales. Right? Of course, he was. Of course, so why did her question bring him doubt?

He released her arms. "We should return to Sadie," he stated.

She nodded, firmly adding, "You don't have to marry her. There's still time to change your mind, you know."

He didn't argue but grabbed the packet from the desk and opened the door to return to a the ill Sadie. Taking a deep breath he opened the door, coldly watching as the two women shared a quick hug, and Marisol kindly remarking, "I hope you feel better in the morning, babe."

Wrapping an arm around his fiancé Anubis answered, "She will. It was probably just the wet burrito she ate at lunch."

Marisol sympathetically nodded in understanding as she held the door open for them, but after the lock clicked she allowed herself a small smile. Tilting her head and with a nonchalant shrug she coyly commented to the door, "Or..." and chuckling at her own trickery she strolled over to her daughter's room. Knocking twice she called, "You still awake in there."

From behind the door she heard her daughter's muffled response. "Are they gone yet?"


	19. After Dinner

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Kane Chronicles.**

**Author's note: Dear Latest Guest Reviewer, yeah, it's been awhile. Nearly two weeks, I know, but apparently my teachers are under the belief we should have a mountain of homework every night. Guest reviewer, I've had a bad week and therefore haven't updated all that promptly, but I do have plans on continuing and at some point finishing this story, and sure Sadie will find out at some point, but I'm holding off for a specific time for her to find out, so...can you deal? I wish you well, may you be better off than I... Always, Johnny.**

**As for the rest of you,**** how all ya doing? Good? I definitely hope it's better than myself. I really hate my immune system, really hate it. ****I don't bite or maim in any sort and am quite level-headed so feel free to review. Helpful friendly criticism and questioning is appreciated just as much as compliments. Just to tell you I respond back to most reviews the same day I get them, most of the time, so review if you have any questions or just want to talk about the story. Feel free to PM, too.**

She quietly pushed the door open, just enough that she could slide into her daughter's room and shut the door as quietly as she could. The lamp on Roselle's bedside illuminated the entire would be pitch black room, the light refracting off the pink, red, and fuchsia clunky bead strings that hung off the lamp shade atop the lamp's base where fairy folk danced in frozen bronze delight. Cozily situated under her fluffy pink covers Roselle's dark curls rested on her pink off white floral pillow-cased pillows, and, as usual, held tightly to the young girl's side was her doll, the doll that possessed the same pale blond hair and green eyes as her deceased namesake.

Kicking off her heels she slipped under the covers beside her daughter. "Yeah, they're gone," Marisol answered.

Her kid mischievously smirked, "Good," before she sat up and eagerly looked towards her mother asking, "So how did she look?"

Marisol narrowed her eyes. "Now, now, baby doll. I'm not condoning this type of behavior."

Roselle nodded, the lecture going completely over her head, and asked, "So how sick did you make her?"

Rolling her eyes she resigned herself to answering the kid's question. Like her parents the kid was awful stubborn, she'd keep asking until given the answer she so desired. "I was surprised that she managed to stay standing so long."

"Did she poop her pants?" Marisol nearly flinched at the child's eagerness. She shouldn't have let Roselle find out what she was planning, should've just let the kid believe it was a bad burrito like Anubis figured, but Roselle was her daughter and like herself stood to lose everything should things not go as planned.

"Nope."

"Aww," the child slumped. "It's would've been funnier if she had."

"Roselle."

The child looked at her mother blankly and matter-of-factly stated, "You know it's true."

Marisol shook her head and changed the topic. "How would you like living with your father for a week?"

Roselle smiled, clearly pleased with the proposal, but nonetheless tried to play it cool. "I wouldn't detest that."

"I leave Thursday."

Roselle frowned, "But you only just got back from Chicago."

"I know, baby doll, but…"

"Business," Roselle sneered. As excited as she was to stay with her father, she didn't want her mother to go either. Why couldn't they all just go somewhere far away where there wasn't a lady named Sadie messing up their lives? A place where her mom and dad could get married and they could all just be a happy normal family. Why couldn't they just do that?

"Yeah," Marisol sighed, "but I'm doing all I can kid. Trust me I don't do this for fun."

Roselle scoffed and fell back against her mattress before pulled the covers over her head to hide her tiny self. "Could you tell me about them again?" her question was muffled by the thick down of the blanket.

"I've told you everything about them already."

"I know, but I just like hearing about them. I wish I could've know them."

Marisol kissed her forehead and bit back her tears before weakly murmuring in response, "I wish you could, too, but I don't want you to join your siblings just yet."

"Please, Lucia first." Roselle rolled the blanket back so that her brown eyes could help in her pleading. Her mother had a hard time resisting when she saw her brown eyes.

"Of course," Marisol hesitantly agreed and suddenly thought of something. "Roselle, I'll be back. I have to make just one call."

The child groaned and irritably replied, "Do you have to?" Figuring that Marisol was going to make the call whether she liked it or not she added, "Hurry back, then." Marisol's kissed her daughter's forehead.

* * *

Sadie shook her head disparately in the elevators. "Why would you offer that?"

Anubis shrugged. "I just thought we ought to. Marisol's our friend, and it's only a week Sadie," as if that made it somewhat better.

Her gaze hadn't lost any intensity even given the state of her bowels, which proved to only make her more impatient and irritable. "A week's a long time."

"She doesn't seem like a bad kid," Anubis added, trying to win her over to his side, but had he known of previous encounters between the two he might've realized his efforts were futile as internally Sadie was rolling her eyes at her fiance's naïvetés.

"No, no, she's a perfect little angel with a halo atop her head," Sadie sarcastically remarked. "Where do you suppose we keep her, huh, babe." That last word close to a growl. "In Brooklyn House where there's training magicains or in the Land of the dead people, Anubis. Taking her in is an unneeded security risk…" Suddenly Sadie's phone went off. Marisol's number. She pressed the call button and said, "Yes?"

"Say no more, darling, we'd love to," Sadie interjected. Well, that solved that problem. Now there was just…turning to her fiancé she asked, "How do you feel about being squatters for a week?"

"Hmm?" he asked, befuddled.

"Marisol wants us to housesit for her while we watch her kid," Sadie explained.

Anubis nodded, "Perfect, so when does she —"

"Thursday. Anubis could you create a portal back to Brooklyn House?" Sadie inquired.

"Well, yes, but since we're not too far away we can just get a cab," Anubis answered.

Sadie smiled sweetly as her eyes bore into his looking anything but sweet, "Trust me it's necessary." Anubis took the hint and instantly opened a black portal into Brooklyn House's Great room. As Sadie rushed off to the bathroom Jaz rushed to meet them, and just as the healer made to call after Sadie Anubis stopped her. "She's doesn't feel all that well." Noting the concern on Jaz's face he added, "Bad burrito."

The blonde nodded, "I have something that can take care of that, but Carter and Zia are back and…" the blonde suddenly stopped. "They need to talk to Sadie, now."

"Now?" Anubis repeated, the weight of the word beginning to form into a cold foreboding. "Why? What did they learn from Walt's mother?"

Jaz shook her head. "Look, just go. Carter and Zia are in the infirmary."

Anubis nodded, trying to recollect why it was the couple had gone off to Seattle. They had gone to visit Walt's mother and also ended up touring some manor, and both were somehow connected with the rogues. Rogues, well, that was a split topic for him. He couldn't lie he had encountered several during his eons. In fact, he even owed his…

"Anubis," Carter hard voice stated. His eyes were wary, and trouble and bafflement lingered in them. It hadn't been a good trip.

Anubis nodded in acknowledgment. "I hear you have something urgent to say."

Zia frowned as she inquired, "Where's Sadie?"

"Jaz is helping her, she's just a little unwell," Anubis hesitantly spoke quickly met with a questioning glance from Carter to which Anubis added, "Her lunch didn't sit well."

Carter nodded, "I see," but the dislike was impossible to dismiss in his tone. Anubis stuffed his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans leaning into the door frame as he accessed the room. Carter sat with arm around his wife while the company fell into a heavy silence where there were things to be said but not until…

"So how was your trip, brother?" Sadie amicably asked as she stepped into the room.

"Interesting," Carter gloomily summarized, which wiped the smile from Sadie's face.

"Oh, so it's that kind of news," Sadie noted. Carter's eyes watched his sister protectively as if fearful of…Anubis visibly frowning, silently understood. Urgent news. He raised his eyes in question to Zia, and though she distrusted him, which Anubis could understand. The idea that gods and mortals ought to not interact definitely had been ingrained rather well even if she had been Ra's host that distrust of the gods doesn't just disappear overnight and even then part of it always lingers, it becomes instinct when you taught that so young. Nonetheless she discreetly gave a small nod that confirmed his suspicions. Sadie however, was still ignorant as she nonchalantly demanded, "Out with it then. We might as well get this—"

"They want to kill you, Sadie," Carter grimly announced. Anubis shook his head. He could've taken a less direct route, and given the news a bit more gently.

Sadie froze, sputtering, "But me? I-I, why?" as Anubis wrapped an arm around her whispering encouraging sentiments into her ears like 'we're not going to let anything happen to you' and 'it's probably just a misunderstanding,' but with the next two pieces of evidence it became all too clear there hadn't been a misunderstanding. Oh no, if the note hadn't cleared that up the doll made sure the point was hit its mark. It's arms and legs were dislocated, the right arm missing like the ring finger on the left. The glass of its eyes were both cracked and a good chunk of the forehead was missing while the rest had been splattered in what he hoped was red paint. Its dress was tattered, but a crisp pristine tag was delicately tied around the doll's neck. A tag that read: Sadie.

After getting over her initial shock Sadie looked to be torn between anger and amusement. "Well, Asya sure likes to make her thoughts clear, huh?" She attempted to smile but couldn't. Instead she leaned her head against his chest, asking for his support. He kissed her forehead, assuring her that she had it.

"Asya," he quietly repeated the name that was oddly familiar.

"Anastasiya Volkom," Zia informed. _Anastasiya, come here, _the man would had had the nerve to do business at that funeral so many years ago had called. She had promised they would meet again. A promise that had echoed in his mind only last night.

"I met her when she was a little girl. She was with her father at a funeral," Anubis hesitantly commented, six eyes suddenly focused on him.

Sadie's eyes lit up as she urgently asked, "Well, what did she look like?" When it was three pairs of eyes looked toward her Sadie understood, "Wait, me? She looked like me?"

Carter nodded.

Sadie scanned their faces, sharing a look just as perplexed as any of theirs. "Well, obviously I'm not Asya or Simone or whoever now. I'm Sadie, and trust me I don't have any thoughts about killing myself," she declared.

Carter nodded, "We're aware you're not Asya."

"We are?" Zia asked.

"I am."

Sadie frowned, "Then who is Asya?"

Carter frowned. "I don't know, but... never mind."

Zia's mouth opened but Sadie interjected first, "Okay, if we don't know who she is do we know where she is now?"

No one had the answer for that so Sadie continued on, "Alright then, I guess we're on defensive, huh. So we will…."

"You can't leave Brooklyn House," Carter brashly declared.

Sadie's mouth fell open, "No, no you can't do that. I'm not a little kid, anymore. You can't order me to do anything like that. I'm your sister, we're equals, Carter."

Carter sighed and solemnly shook his head, "You're my little sister. How can I keep you safe if I don't know where you are?"

"You don't, have a little bit of faith. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, you know!" she exclaimed.

"The only thing I want to do is protect you," Carter protested.

"Of course, but while you're at might at well it lock me in my room like a modern day Rapunzel…."

"Or you could have someone chaperone her at all times," Anubis suggested, bringing the squabbling siblings' bickering to a halt.

Carter frowned and eyed him suspiciously, "And this chaperone, it would be you, right?"

Anubis shrugged, "Well, actually I was thinking we could ask Set if he would be up to helping out."

Though it was a joke no one laughed, or even smiled. In fact the mood only worsened, especially when Carter revealed the three paintings they brought back from Asya's manor. One, depicting a landscape of ash and bone, disgusted him. The second, that of the young girl, left him with deja vu while the third, the temple brought back memories of Anput, and he was pretty sure that was her temple. None of this he mentioned. If he were to bring up Anput he knew what they'd do to her name. Tarnish it, conform it to their warped theories, and make her out to be the evil seductress she hadn't been.

When the sharing of their visit was concluded Sadie briefly mentioned that they had agreed to watch Roselle, after the initial 'you can't bring a regular human into Brooklyn House' Sadie informed Carter they were also housesitting, which was greeted with 'but it's not safe', to which the final agreement was that they're would be one guard outside Marisol's door, and two on the street below. Arguments done and truths revealed Sadie wrapped her hand around Anubis's and cheerily commented, "So I guess that you're staying the night. You're welcome to sleep next in my bed next with me."

Anubis smiled. He guessed so, but Carter had other plans. The young pharaoh was quick to shove a rolled up sleeping bag into Anubis's unsuspecting arms. "He sleeps on the floor, you in the bed," Carter pointedly explained.

Sadie shook her head. "Neither you or Zia sleep on the floor, so why should Anubis?"

"You're not married."

"Prudish much?"

Anubis shifted the bundle into a better carrying position. "It's alright, Sadie. I really don't mind."

Sadie shook her head and just stalked off to her room upstairs. Anubis was about to follow when he paused to linger for a moment. "Carter?" he inquired.

Sadie's brother's eyes narrowed. "Anubis."

The saliva on his tongue felt uncomfortably sticky at the back of his throat dry as he remarked, "Sadie and I we haven't, you know. Just to tell you. I've talked her into waiting until after we're married and I'm going to make sure we do. Out of respect, for you and the other gods."

A small smile dared to tip the edges of his lips. He had just a small bit of approval with his future brother-in-law. Not a lot but enough. Anubis nodded and started after Sadie when Carter's voice stopped him. "Anubis, I think I can trust you. You won't let anything hurt her, I've seen that, so thank you."

Anubis nodded. "Goodnight, Carter. Zia."

"Night."

When Sadie was dressed in what functioned as PJs, a holey t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, her head had found just the right position on the headrest, and her eyes stopped resisting the appeal of staying open Anubis leaned down and kissed her forehead.

He slept on the floor and he dreamt of his daughters playing with porcelain dolls. The girl from one of the paintings Carter had showed them was there as well. Lucia, he didn't know how he knew her name but in the dream she turned to look at him and the dream then changed drastically into what didn't feel like a dream anymore.

_He heard Aka wailing before he saw them. Her face was hidden behind a veil of auburn curls, but he knew her cheeks were red and slick with salty tears. His knees gave out and he fell beside her as he realized who the limp form she held in her lap was. "No," he murmured._

_Aka's face pressed against his chest, trying not to see her daughter's corpse. He held his wife tighter. They had gone too far. When Egypt fell it had not been out of malice, unlike this violent act of retribution. Aka took their princess, but that same princess took his wife's people's home from them. Then again Aka had done the same, but without the mass murder and Egypt had been an easy conquest, divided in the conflicts of three squabbling self-proclaimed pharaohs._

_"They say I should leave you," his wife murmured, the brokenness in her voice nearly unbearable for him to take._

_"Don't," he gently asked of her._

_She almost smiled, but the death of their Lucia was too fresh. "I won't."_

_"Neither will I," he promised. She sniffled and wrapped her strong arms around his neck, resting her head on his should. It felt heavy today, like the grief in his heart and the shame he felt towards his fellow countrymen. No they weren't his countrymen, not anymore. Like his uncle to them he was a traitor._

_Aka leaned back and looked into his eyes, where they could've been hating or mistrust there was only love. "Ienpw," her lip quivered as the tears continued down her cheeks like small rivers, "I don't want to live without you," she tenderly stated._

_"And I you."_

_Another sniffle. "But this can't continue on. These petty squabbles have to end lest Egypt be—" _

_His lips prevented hers from continuing._


	20. Ford Detroit, right?

**Disclaimer: I doing away with this because I think we all know I don't own the Kane Chronicles by now.**

**Author's Note: Dear, Latest Guest Reviewer, ****Are you the same person I addressed last chapter because if you are how about a compromise. Anubis will tell Sadie, finally, but no Carter/Zia as of yet. Alright? Enjoy. Always, Johnny. **

"So, refresh my memory. Your flight's heading where again?" Sadie asked, taking another sip of lemon tea from the huge mug Marisol had graciously provided.

"Gerald R. Ford International," Marisol repeated for the eleventh time that morning, and the antique style alarm clock on Marisol's bedside table only read 6:22 AM. Now the sun was up and the city stirring, but Marisol was yet to conclude packing for her eight o'clock flight. Watching as her friend meticulously folded and organized her stuff Sadie noted this had to be the most casually dressed she had seen Marisol since graduation of senior year. Even wearing only a pair faded jeans with ragged bottoms and a Fighting Irish t-shirt that looked to have seen the wash several times too many Marisol managed to look breathtaking beautiful as ever. She wasn't even wearing make-up, and her hair was pulled back in a high pony to disguise the fact she hadn't bothered brushing it while her sneakers were that weird yellowish color that comes with age that's never really noticed until you place a new pair of sneakers beside them and then the comparison is so blatantly clear.

From the doorway she leaned against Sadie stared blankly back at Marisol. Ford…cars. Therefore she was going to, uh, Detroit? "So this relative, are they in the auto business?"

Marisol stopped folding the blouse she held and set it down on the bed next to the open suitcase. Shaking her head ever so Marisol stared back at her with utter bafflement displayed openly on her face as she unable to understand exactly what on earth Sadie was talking about before suddenly realizing the misunderstanding, and Marisol just to laugh. It was the kind of laughter that basically said, 'Really, I love you, I do, but sometimes…' and now was one of those sometimes, though, Sadie felt her response was perfectly justified. Ford, that was the name of one those Midwest car companies, no? But Marisol didn't have that Ford in mind it seemed as Marisol informed the once Brit which exact Ford some airport who knows where had been named after.

"No, no, not the car company, babe. Gerald R. Ford was the thirty-eighth president. He's also the only person to have been not voted in by the electoral college as either vice president or president, and he was both," Marisol remarked.

Sadie slumped; Marisol's optimism was a bit too similar to that of her brother's joy for discussing history, and Marisol was talking political history, even worse. After all, what'd it matter which Ford had an airport named after their self, both no doubt had their fair share of exhibits in museums. Marisol didn't quite share Sadie's opinion, in fact Sadie's disinterest almost irked her. Who would have guessed Marisol had a soft spot for presidents that rarely anyone bothered to remember anymore. Marisol returned to folding and packing, her back turned to Sadie, and murmuring under her breath Marisol softly, reverently recited words once spoken by the that past president, "But there is a higher Power, by whatever name we honor Him, who ordains not only righteousness but love, not only justice, but mercy…let us restore the golden rule to our political process, and let brotherly love purge our hearts of suspicion and hate."

It was a nice sentiment but didn't fill Sadie with any emotion except wondering about how much longer Marisol would be until she got on her way. Not that she wanted to be rid of Marisol, but that was an awesome flat screen in the living room. Unlike her brother Carter, Marisol hadn't learned Sadie was a lost cause for history lessons, and so it was that she continued, "He was a good man, ought to have gotten at least one more term, but, and don't get me wrong, I think Carter was swell and all, but they crucified Ford for what he did, for pardoning Nixon. It wasn't right of them, you know?" The topic sure meant a lot to Marisol, considering the very fact Marisol was still talking about it, well the very fact she was actually speaking spoke volumes about its level of importance. Thinking about it Marisol sure responded to her with a lot of nods and uh-huhs.

"It's a greater man who can forgive, thus they ought to have praised his ability to do so. Forgiving is such a hard thing to do and…" Forgiveness, was that what this was all about? If it was Sadie couldn't think why. Whatever had Marisol done that she wanted to be forgiven? Unless Marisol wanted to do the forgiving and couldn't manage? Neither possibility fit well with the image of a nice wholesome individual that automatically popped up whenever she thought of Marisol.

Immediate silence was partnered with a grave look Sadie's way. "People can never understand the big picture at all can they? They only see the moment and even then only in the way it affects them."

Sadie swallowed uncomfortably. Was it just her or had the temperature gone up drastically. "If you say so," she murmured, unable to think of a better response. Asking if you're on the road to Kook's Ville didn't seem a good option when Marisol's wasn't just offering her apartment but also the chauffeur and other perks, just not the jet. They apparently didn't have a jet. Then again if they had a jet Marisol would be taking that probably instead of flying first class. Either way Marisol had it made pretty nice.

Her only response was the zipping up of Marisol's suitcase and the thud of it hitting the wooden floor and the wheels as Marisol brought it to the front door. The grandfather clock said 6:30AM. A scrabble board was spread atop the dining table. It was Roselle's turn and Anubis diligently watched as he bit into a thick slice of raisin toast. Roselle head bounced up as she set the last tile in its place and looked towards her mother. Dutifully she swung her legs over to the side of the chair and stood. She clung to her mother in a last effort to convince her mother not to go. Marisol's kissed her daughter's forehead twice. Once after she broke away from the hug. After informing them there were leftovers in the fridge she gave Sadie a brief hug, Anubis a nod, and kissed Roselle's forehead for the second time. At 6:53 AM Marisol left, leaving Roselle and the apartment in her friends' care.

It could be written off as a rather uneventful kind of day in the grand scheme of things, but at the time Sadie was… Now Roselle she was quite well-behaved, truly, when Anubis was around, but as soon as he left the room her sweet demeanor decided to check out as well. Anubis had stepped out for a moment to speak to a messenger her father had sent, apparently it takes a while for news to reach the Land of the Dead, and Anubis had forgotten to mention that the rogues wanted her dead or perhaps he had just thought that wasn't the best dinner conservation to have with your future father-in-law. Anyway as it was Sadie was spread out rather comfortably on Marisol's sofa and, boy, were these cushions perfect. The right amount of support with the just amount of cush to them. It was bliss, and the remote was snug in her hand as her thumb rhythmically pressed down as she lazily scrolled up through the channels. Ancient Aliens, nah. The Addams Family, hmm not quite in the mood. Days of Our Lives, too slow and was it really one already? I Love Lucy, no. Finally she got to the movie channels and there wasn't really anything on, but looking at movies didn't matter anymore as she couldn't see the screen. Roselle had purposefully stood right in front of her.

"Yes, Roselle?" Sadie groaned. The kid didn't like her, and she didn't like the kid all that much either. Marisol surely had raised a spoiled brat. Emphasis on brat.

"Can we watch Disney?" Roselle sweetly asked.

"Don't you have a TV in your room?" Sadie suspiciously inquired. The kid shook her head. "Really?"

Roselle shrugged and remarked, "Mama says that TVs shouldn't be in a kid's room. Too much of a distraction."

"Hmm…fine." Sadie moved over so Roselle had room to sit. She sat a bit closer than Sadie thought she would've of and at one point even rested her head on Sadie's shoulder. Watching Mickey and the gang Sadie and Ro almost seemed to be getting along and was pleasant. However after dinner Sadie came to the brutal realization that was the calm before the storm, a trick to lull her into a false sense of ease, and it had worked quite well.

To sum it up it was Roselle who was meant to take a bath, but Sadie who ended up soaked. Roselle who was brushing her teeth when by some "accident" Sadie's shirt, and not a pajama shirt as she hadn't dressed for bed yet, was splattered with toothpaste. When Sadie went to put Roselle to bed, the small girl wouldn't go to sleep and insisted it was Anubis who told her a bedtime story and tucked her in, which suited Sadie just fine. It just would allow her to take a shower and change out of her minty smelling top.

Anubis was already in Marisol's room, where Marisol had insisted it was alright they sleep. He had a shirt just like every one he always wore and she couldn't tell what he was wearing on the lower half as he was already below the covers. As she got beside in him she hadn't realized he was asleep until her "Goodnight" woke him.

"Huh," he drowsily started. "Oh, night, Sadie." He leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek and returned to his head to the comfortable plushness of the pillow.

Sadie watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as she commented, "I thought you said it takes you a few days to get used to a mattress."

Anubis's eyes met her. A solemn frown claimed his lovely lips as he bluntly remarked, "It does."

"You sure? You're falling asleep rather easily. Was father's messenger too much?"

"No, it's not your father." He sighed and turned and when he spoke his voice was completely serious, "I've spent the night here before. Marisol and I...we're lovers." The absurdity of the statement was plainly hilarious. Laughing loudly she had to admit she loved his sense of humor. Sleeping with Marisol? As if.

"Oh, Anubis," she chuckled.

"You're not mad," he asked, with the right amount of sincerity that she couldn't help but continue laughing.

"Cut it out, Anubis. I can't fall asleep if I'm laughing."

"I'm not joking," he replied.

"Uh-huh. Let me guess you're also Roselle's father, no?" she teased as settle into a comfortable sleeping position. He didn't answer and she thought he was joking.

It was crowded for where it was, but compared to airports in New York or Chicago it was rather spacious. Marisol anxiously scanned the crowd for a familiar face. When she saw one it wasn't one that she had expected or openly welcomed. She had thought it would be just another of her father's men driving her there, such as William, or David, or even Tom, but no it was him. Him.

**Trivia Question: Where is Gerald R. Ford International and what's his connection to the city that's it in? Rewards are yet to be thought of; though, I might be persuaded to give a hint or two. Who knows? **


	21. Welcome to River City

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**Author's Note: Oh, man these last few weeks have been hectic. It being homecoming after all, and I did go to a wedding and this past week, well it sucked for many reasons, none of which I will bore you with. However things are looking up as my birthday is about a week away. You guys probably don't care for my babbling so I'll get straight to it...oh, and I hope these past few weeks have been kinder to you than they have to me. Other than that the songs I use I cite the singer and the title are cited within the text.**

_"Just sign here, monsieur," the doctor gestured to a line amongst the even smaller text. The pen felt heavy in his palm signing his crooked signature upon the legal documents knowingly giving her over to the place Iskandar and himself had agreed upon. He didn't like leaving her, especially as it was an asylum, but Iskandar promised he would send for her, and her condition was worsening every life, every day in fact. When she had been Asya she had been able to go weeks, sometimes months, without a lapse, but now they came nearly every hour and how she screamed and cried through the nights. _

_He could do only so much, and she was far beyond his ability to aid her. Of course, the vow that he made lifetimes ago tugged at his heart, pleading with him to take her from the doctor who couldn't help her any more than he had been able, and run to America where the girl's father and people had gathered, but he was not in the United States. No, he was in the territory of Michel Desjardins, and thus if he were to flee with her he'd be stopped and she taken anyway. So he stood from the stiff-backed chair and left. The House of Life would continue his work. Iskandar was an understanding friend. No harm would come to her and he had promised the Kanes wouldn't go near. He promised. He did. Though, if the Kanes asked to see how could they be refused, what reason could be given? None. He turned back to look one last time at the hostile hospital where she now was trapped. "Oh, Aka, my little girl," he whispered to her as maybe his murmuring would drift through the cracks of the windows and into her ears," please forgive me, they gave me no choice."_

Her throat was dry and her fingers were biting into the handles of her bags. Impossible, it was him. Sure the gray hoodie and sweatpants disguised him a bit, definitely hid the many tattoos, but still it was unmistakably him. That hairstyle of his... unchanged from her time as Simone, still greasy, still long. He even still had that ridiculous beard, which she was willing to forgive on account the tattoo under it that could be a dead giveaway if the wrong people chanced seeing it.

He smiled when he noticed her. Smiled like all that had happened between them was a minuscule misunderstanding, and that all was actually okay, like it was all sugar plums and daisies. Ugh, being a priest of Set had come so very natural for him. He was walking toward her now, reaching for her bags. Her clenched fists didn't loosen their grip around the handles, didn't care to. If she let him take the handles what would her fingernails dig into?

"Aka, my girl, it's you," he warmly noted, letting his hand caress her cheek. She flinched at his touch remembering times he hadn't been so gentle.

"Jonathan," she coldly returned.

If he noticed her wary manner he didn't acknowledge it. "Welcome to River City, the home of the annual Art Prize competition, or Furniture City if you want to talk Herman Miller," Jonathan amiably stated prying her fingers off the luggage handles taking them from her as he allowed her to follow him across the road and into the car garage to his semi-beat up dark blue pick-up truck. He put her bags in the backseat as pulled herself up into the passenger seat.

Situated and seatbelts fastened Jonathan turned the key in ignition. The car lights went on, the clock read half past ten, and from the speakers Willie Nelson's City of New Orleans blared. "_Riding on the City of New Orleans_…" She leaned back and resigned herself to what was going to be a very long day. "…_fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders_…"

Avoiding those with rolling suitcases and other cars pulling in and out Jonathan expertly navigated their way out of the garage and started towards the west side. "I'd let you drive if you have cared to but Michigan roads can be a bit funny if you're not used to them, take Michigan turns for example," Jonathan stated stopped at the light.

"…_Good morning America, how are ya? Say don't you know me, I'm your native son.._." She nodded. Her back was straight, her jaw was close to being clenched shut.

"How's breakfast sound? After all, it's only half after ten and we have a long drive ahead of us. There's this place on the west side that I was thinking we could go to," he suggested.

"Sounds great," she systematically answered.

Like the city's name promised it was a city built on the rapids of the Grand River. Of the buildings some were new, and most simple and understated. It wasn't a city that jumped out at you and screamed what kind of place it was. It was a small friendly kind of city, with a few skyscrapers and its share of brick buildings, churches, and suburb. In the pond net to the zoo parking she swore she say a sea monster. Really, it was there, made out of some kind of beishe plaster and of a Celtic-style design. She let her head fall back against the headrest as a Dairy Queen and Polish Hall flashed by, the two on opposite sides of the street.

For the standards of the city the restaurant had a decent to bit better than decent size parking lot, and the restaurant itself had a table and chairs in the front room was well as a bakery while the main dining was in the back. Promptly the hostess seated them in a booth, and thus the two were forced to look at one another their awkward silence turning into hostile tension.

"What can I get you to drink?" the waitress recited.

"Two Pepsis," Jonathan said, answering for the both on them.

"And a water," she added before the waitress slipped away. Turning to him she stated, "I can order for myself, thank you." He only nodded, though when that water did come Aka preferred the Pepsi.

That hostile tension manage to simmer in silence for the duration of the meal, but when the waitress handed Jonathan the change with a casual 'I hope you and your wife have a good rest of the day,' he just had to answer the way he did. "Oh, her. No she's not my wife, she's my daughter."

A statement that Aka couldn't let go and so slamming the truck door shut she angrily turned to him and growled, "I'm not your daughter."

Johnathan shook his head, "If that makes you feel better than fine."

Aka snorted. "You raised me, sure, but if I remember correctly your favorite parental techniques included social isolation and abandonment."

"I'm sorry, Aka, but…"

"But?"

"I'm here now."

She couldn't have laughed louder. "And how long are you staying? A day, a week, a month, or even will you be cruel enough to stay a year to trick me into believing that for once you're going to stay?"

"Aka, please be reasonable?"

"Reasonable? You've abandoned me how many times. When I Anput and five you left me to the temple of Ra. Basically after Alex married me you stepped off the face of the planet and do I even have to say what's it like to left at the age of seven to an insane asylum and left to that atrocity, the Per Ankh?"

_Michel stared at the young girl who was staring back at him from where she sat upright in the hospital bed provided her. He glanced about the destitute room, taking in the barred windows and pristine white walls. "What's your name, girl?"_

"_Simone."_

"_Simone?"_

"_Simone Durand."_

"_Where are your parents, Simone?" Amos asked. Desjardins mentally rolled his eyes. Why had Iskandar insisted upon the American's presence? Perhaps he, Desjardins, could come off as a bit cold or unwelcoming at times, but he wasn't about to kill the girl, well, unless she put him in a situation where it was necessary. And sending a Kane to oversee him, an arrogant blood of the pharaohs Kane. _

_The girl didn't seem to notice Amos, instead she pertly asked him, Desjardins, "Who are you?"_

"_Michel Desjardins," he warily provided. She tilted as she considered his name and before inquiring, "You're of the House aren't you?"_

_Amos smiled at her and gently questioned, "How do you know about the House?"_

_The child looked past Kane and at him. She wouldn't see Amos, but it wasn't because of the color of his skin or some other silly reason like that. "You're descended from Champollion, no?" the girl asked. Desjardins tersely nodded, and the girl smiled, such a contrast to the rage caged within her blue eyes, "I liked him. I didn't like Narmer; he was a bully." Michel smiled to himself; the child was quickly growing on him. _

Jonathan hung his head in shame. "Okay, I suck. I really do, but I am here for you. I always come back, don't I?"

Aka frowned, "You do." She couldn't contest that fact, at some point...he always returned. The how long was the problem. Sometimes it was days, but at other times it was lives.

"So can we get along?" he asked.

She pondered his inquiry for several moments before answering, "I don't think we have much of a choice. I need a lift; you need me to get revenge."

"Therefore we're united against a common enemy, no?"

Aka nodded. "I guess so." She looked outside the truck window and sighed, "Are we going to spend all day in a parking lot or do you want to get heading?"

He chose to get heading and Aka pulled out her phone to make a last call. "Sadie?"

"Hey, Marisol. So you're…uh wherever you are?"

"Uh-huh," Aka supplied.

"That's good."

"How's Roselle?" Aka felt Jonathan's gaze flicker towards her then back to the traffic.

"She's well. We're watching Disney channel at the moment. How are you?"

"That's nice. I'm…fine. So, anyway I just wanted to tell you that I'm might have trouble getting cell service in a couple hours so you might not be able to reach me."

"Okay...umm. So where are you going that you can't get cell service?" Sadie inquired.

"Gotta go, babe. Thanks for watching Roselle, Sade. I hope you and Anubis are well."

"We are…" Aka hung up and turned to look over at Jonathan who was looking at her.

He smiled and simply asked, "So how's life been?" and Aka laughed remembering everything else he'd done that she didn't hate him for and for the first time that day thought maybe spending four to six hours in a car wouldn't be exactly horrible with him, until he turned the radio up and Dolly Parton was singing Jolene. _"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene..."_

Considering who the father of her child was it wasn't a surprise she attempted to change the station, but her driver protested, "Hey, that's a good song."

She sighed, "Please, Jon."

_"Your beauty is beyond compare, With flaming locks or auburn hair, With ivory skin and eyes of..."_

He shook his head, "So the girl...I haven't asked. Do we want her dead?"

_"He talks about you in his sleep, There's nothing I can do to keep, From crying when he calls your name, Jolene."_

Aka's eyes narrowed, "No, I don't to kill her."

His smirk knew better, "Uh-huh Aka, since when?"

"Since I met her. She's not the same person."

"But..."

_"But I could never love again, He's the only one for me, Jolene." _

"I wouldn't mind gorging out her eyes when I see her with..." Aka paused, saying his name hurt.

Jonathan turned the radio off.

(If you've ever driven through the western half of Michigan you know what the ride is like, but for those you haven't had the chance I'll do my best to sum it up for you. In four words: hills, trees, farms, and towns (for even some of the cities more resemble large towns than cities and there really aren't too many big cities, maybe around three possibly four with skyscrapers, not a lot of those either). The state has been said to have a wrinkled face and when it comes to driving there's a bit of up and down and curving this and that way. Even more prominent though are the trees: Oaks, maples, pines, beeches, and cedar. I've heard the state been cut down twice but you wouldn't know it trees are such a common sight. The forests that cover the state open up now and then to reveal acres of farmland. The staple crops being the usual corn, grain, and of course near Transverse those cherry trees, as well the blueberry farm here and the apple orchard there, and well as other foods. The biggest cities of the state include Detroit and Lansing (but those aren't on the route as Lansing is in the middle and Detroit on the other side of the state), Grand Rapids is the second largest (I think you can guess the largest), then there's the smaller cities of Petoskey (where you get those stones), Mackinaw City and St. Ignace at the bridge, which is really all you need to know the Les Cheneaux are maybe an hour or so from the bridge.)

Several hours passed in silence before Jonathan grimly muttered, "I saw him."

Aka ceased her window watching and curiously looked towards him," Him?"

Jonathan sadly smiled, "You know."

She frowned and insisted upon her ignorance," No, how would I…" She understood, "How?"

"I was in New York, he was at the movies with…" he paused, not sure he ought to continue.

Aka shifted her feet that rested atop the glove box, her blue and green strip socks visible. "With Sadie," she murmured. "Did he recognize you?"

Jonathan shrugged, "It's possible, but I don't believe so."

"Don't believe so?" Aka repeated, shaking her head is disgusted disbelief. "Did you talk to him?" The gruff shrug he gave she took as a yes. "What did you say?"

"Well we made small talk. He asked what movie I was seeing and I told him I was looking for you."

"What?" Aka exclaimed.

Jonathan snickered, "Simone, I told him I was looking for Simone. That said, what name have you been going by?"

"Marisol."

Anubis slid out of the bed and headed into the study, to the phone on the desk. He dialed the numbers of Marisol's cell, his eyes fleeting up after he pressed each digit, his ears strained in case of any change in Sadie's sleeping state. The phone rang, and rang, and rang. Voice mail. He waited for the beep before whispering into the receiver, "Marisol, I really need to talk to you," and hung up and returned to bed.


	22. Almost Like a Paid Vacation

**Author's Note: I hope you all are well. Life as been busy (birthdays, funerals, tests, and Halloween, of course). I hope you enjoy the chapter and as always feedback is appreciated. **

He could hear himself think, so unlike back in Memphis where the type writers clacked and the baboons being baboons were nearly always a constant distraction from his real work. Above him there was a pristine blue sky that he was sure that if Shu were there, he'd be praising it from the ground to, well, the sky. The rev of a boat engine purred as it sped across the lazy waters of the serene channels that curved between the tree covered shores. The trees, cedar and pine, stood watch, tall and unkempt in their undisturbed haven.

Now you're probably saying, Thoth man, you're a god why don't you just open a portal or put these upstart rogues back in their place. Well, he definitely could, but it wasn't all that bad being the rogues captive. Sure, it was chillier than Memphis, but he was on a waterfront property and he had a steady supply of Murdick's Fudge. It was like a paid vacation, just he wasn't getting paid and he was sort of a captive and maybe he was starting to get a case of cabin fever, but his staying... Perhaps his absence would teach those other gods how hard it can be without wisdom on your side. They had the habit of taking him for granted. And, okay, he was curious to learn the reason for his abduction. Not too many people would've taken the time to trouble themselves with such an attempt, for most just wanted him to show them the path to enlightenment. This didn't feel like that kind of thing. Simone hadn't wanted info from him; well, she hadn't acted like it, anyway. The boat's engine grew louder. He looked up to see a wooden classic roundthe end of one of the islands, and it looked to be heading in his direction. Had Simone at long last decided to finish their conversation?

Sure enough the boat was destined for the boathouse on the property. The guard who had been charged with watching over him came out of the cabin and taking to sitting in the other chair on the beach next to Thoth.

"Looks like sis finally decided to show," the young man remarked.

"Sis?"

He smirked and shrugged, "Yeah, she never tells anyone about me." The guard held his hand out for Thoth to shake, "Oliver Jenkins, sir."

Thoth nodded but didn't shake the boy's hand. Oliver was unfazed by what many could have mistaken for a slight as he stood to make his way over to the boathouse. Oliver gave him a nod as left to greet his sister. From a distance Thoth saw the siblings embrace and greet another. He noted the lingering hug and her whispered command that resulted in him taking her bags and heading towards the house as she started towards the beach, towards him.

She maneuvered across the grass carefully, watching for anything so generously left behind by last night's geese. Without any unpleasant surprise she reached him and claimed the lawn chair next to his as her own.

"Hello, Thoth." Her tone was very casual, and lacked the bitterness of their last meeting.

"Hello, excuse but I don't believe I have a name for you, yet, and you as you didn't react to Simone all that well…"

"I've been going by Marisol Jenkins."

"Sadie's friend?"

"Uh-huh," she replied half-heartedly. Her eyes, cold and blue were not desperate as much as knowing and her smile smug.

His eyes studied her carefully before noticing the package atop her lap. With postal stamp and address uniform he had dismissed it simply as just the mail, but at second thought he had other suspicions. "Is that…?"

"Uh-huh," the girl now called Marisol conceded. It made sense. If they had Setne then they also had his book.

"Do you mean to return it to its rightful owner?" Thoth tersely probed.

Marisol's eyes flickered down to the package and then him. She shrugged. "When I'm done with it," was her coy reply.

"You're mortal. The book's useless to you," Thoth commented.

She stopped herself from laughing. "And you're immortal."

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. An obvious statement, so why did it weigh so heavily? He knew his answer, felt it in his gut, for it was because this girl was was no fool. This girl had spent many hours in lucubration planning and scheming. She had that look to her. Yet it was with a child's innocence she studied their surroundings. The blue skies, teal waters, and green cedars.

"How does one become immortal?" she softly asked.

He looked at her reproachfully. "I can't tell you that; you're a mortal."

"Yes, the mortal who managed to abduct you."

"I could leave anytime."

She tilted her head in Anubis fashion and tactfully remarked, "Yet you haven't." She didn't add more, didn't have to.

"Look, Thoth, you can tell me. I mean, think about it, at the end of the day whatever it is that I'm planning is futile. I'm no match for the united might of the Kanes and you gods. Really, I'm pretty screwed. By bearing Anubis a daughter and sending Sadie a death threat I've basically asked Osiris to throw my heart to Ammit." Her tone walked that line between mocking and serious. Which one it was he couldn't decipher, despite being the god of knowledge the word games of a female were still beyond him.

But bore Anubis a daughter? That was a serious claim to make. It would have meant negligent overseeing of the relationships between humans and gods and would have bad repercussions all around. Just imagining what would happen if this between common knowledge. With the relations between god and human still so frail…this was bad, especially for Anubis.

"This cannot be true. A demigod would not go unnoticed," Thoth stubbornly spoke. He hoped his words were true, yet knew otherwise in his gut.

Marisol rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You praise yourselves too highly."

"Why do want to know how one is made immortal?" he apprehensively inquired.

"Same reason you stay," she cordially smiled.

"There's no hidden agenda?" Thoth suspiciously asked. There was one reason at least,had to be. This girl was utterly suicidal otherwise. Then again, that would fit with having had intimate relations with a death god.

She shrugged. "Do you mean to ask whether I would want to make myself one of your almighty gods? Please, I don't have that big of an ego. I'm just curious how you plan to make my friend Sadie a goddess after she marries Anubis." Friend? Unlikely. Intriguing, though, how that word was spoken without even a hint of sarcasm.

He told her. Thoth didn't feel it mattered with her, like she said, when she died even Anubis couldn't save her from her crimes. This information was not new to her. Her eyes betrayed the fact that when he spoke she was checking every step off an already laid out set of steps. But how? Such information was reserved to the priests and priestesses. Unless…what was the name of that one Anubis had taken a liking to. Ah, yes Anput. Just one more look at her and he knew it true.

As he continued he came to a second understanding. Sadie couldn't be made a goddess for they lacked the most important artifact of the ceremony to make her so. The Ankh of Ra. A priestess could be made; Zia would serve. Yet the Ankh was key and without it no god or goddess would be created.

Marisol—Anput, knew this. Setne had killed her in order to steal the Ankh. She had been its last keeper, for with her it had vanished. No doubt, she was the only person alive or dead who knew its location.

So the question remained…She had his book and the ankh and knew the ritual, so if immortality wasn't her purpose, what was?

She answered his question with another question. "Do you know why gods are banned from relations with humans?"

"To prevent chaos and maintain order?"

"What a practiced response," she crooned. "So why haven't the Greeks banned it?"

"They love fighting. Ever read a history book that said all the city-states lived together in peaceful harmony?"

"I wouldn't judge. The House of Life as been as chaotic of late as the Greeks have ever been," Marisol remarked.

"Be that as it is, Ra banned the practice, and so it is forbidden."

"Has it always been forbidden?" she asked. Her hands had taken to unwrapping the package. There it was, just like he remembered it on his workshop table. The pages lovingly crinkled from his frequent skimming and there was the sahlab stain on the left-hand corner of the cover. What had she asked again, oh, of course?

"Yes, always," he replied; his voice wavered as his eyes watched the once priestess flip through the pages of his beloved compilation. Couldn't she be more careful? Those pages were old, and had she washed her hands? He hoped she hadn't had maple syrup with waffles or pancakes this morning. Imagine the damage a smudge of syrup would cause. Not only would that cause the pages to stick but when you forced them apart. Oh, if the pages didn't tear, then perhaps precious words would be ripped away leaving the spell utterly useless.

Marisol knew exactly what page, what spell, she wanted. "So always?" she questioned.

He leaned closer and studied the page. Thoth shook his head, "That spell has never been done." Her smirked irritated him. What did she kno…oh, gods. Well, that changed things, a lot.


	23. Sleep On It, Djehuti

**Author's Note: In the spirit of Thanksgiving, which, yes, I know has passed, I'd like to give thanks to all the people who've supported me in writing this, anyway. Specifically I thank Blue cookiesSeriously, DragonessKunoichi, EpicFangirl2227, Goddess Cure Mystic, IbeCrazy, Meek Mills Miller, Neko Rose-22, Q-nagisa, Reyna Kane, SesshyXKags Guardian Angel, Shadowhunterchronicleslover13, The Queen Reader, Xenpaii, cgtoledo30, illusionofdreams, nicosnowangelo, sadiekane031798 for favoriting this story; I thank Blue cookiesSeriously, IbeCrazy, Idonhaveausername, March150, Meek Millz Miller, Neko Rose-22, Q-nagisa, Reyna Kane, The Queen Reader, Xenpaii, bandcrazy01, cgtoledo30, illusionofdreams, sadiekane031798, and suri482 for following. Lastly I would like to thank those who left behind reviews: IbeCrazy, nicosnowangelo, dance. sign. enjoy, EpicFangirl2227, sadiekane031798,March150, Bellismo, Ice, The Queen Reader, the several anonymous people who left Guest reviews, and especially Q-nagisa, thanks again for your great reviews. I also thank everyone else who has read this.**

**So, I've been gone awhile, sorry. Honestly, I wanted to write, but I've been struggling to practice piano I have so much homework. The good thing is I'm done with the trimester that had all of my core classes, so I actually get to have fun this trimester. I hope this also means that I can write more, and update more frequently; though, I will make no promises. That said, winter break is not far off, so... The second reason I've been gone so long is that I've also been working on some original work, but that does not mean that I haven't been working on this. In truth I'm a perfectionist, so every update I've revised for at least two days. **

**As always I hope you enjoy the update. If you care to review that would be great, they're all appreciated, truly. If you want to PM feel free, I promise that I will respond. If you have questions, do ask. I will answer or, at least, give you a good hint that'll send you in the right direction. I wish you all a swell day and hope that you're enjoying ourselves wherever you are.**

* * *

_Ah, the market. The center of the village, a hub of culture and communal gathering, where a pleasant mix of spice, herb, and perfume mixed with the putrid odor that seemed to accompany human closeness. Not yet day, __the air wasn't beseeched by torrents of the exotic aromas; instead, the night smelled like the night, like the smoke of fires, of sand, and of dankness. Under the open star-filled skies of night refreshing cool air remained__, but only for a little while longer for night was conceding to twilight, and twilight only lasts so long. Already the market was filling with vendors and their potential customers. _

_ One might ask why the god of wisdom was here, and dressed as a merchant, at that. Well, five days ago a priest had ran off during the night, and apparently he was of enough value as to be chased back down and returned to his temple of occupancy. Hence, Horus had sent Thoth after the dastardly mortal. As for his merchant disguise, the garb allowed him to blend into this market he had followed the priest to that resided in the center of the Seventeenth nome of Lower Egypt, best known for the temple of Ra that resided there. _

_This priest that had ran, he was of the cult of Set, which was not much of a surprise; the lot of them were trouble. After all, what good wholesome individual __would praise Set? Not to mention, the god didn't need worshipping, for that ego of his was quite enlarged. You will know him when you find him, was all he had to go on for a physical description of the man. As it was, Horus had been completely correct Thoth found as he squinted at the pathetic excuse of a priest. Covered in tattoos the man had an unforgettable disposition. This priest wore no wig; instead, his black hair was allowed to grow past his should in greasy disgrace. Not to mention, he stunk. Whether it was for lack of proper bathing habits or the telltale signs of some grisly business, Thoth figured he'd rather not decipher which, preferring to leave it simply at the man stunk. The priest didn't flee at Thoth's approach; instead, he rolled back his shoulders and arrogantly smirked._

"_Is there something I could help you with, brother?" the priest jovially asked._

_Thoth quickly glanced around the market in which they stood. The rug weaver seemed harmless, the dagger merchants were busy…arguing (fine, they were throwing daggers at each other, satisfied?), and all the rest had yet to arrive at the market, for it was still some hours before the sun restored day to the world. _

"_What brings you to the seventeenth nome?" Thoth stiffly inquired. "I do not believe I have seen you in this market before."_

_The priest of Set shrugged before giving an insouciant response. "I could say the same friend. " Thoth gulped. For a moment he thought that the priest had called his bluff, but the priest's response rid him of that fear, for __the priest answered with a vague "a friend asked for me."_

"_What friend?" the merchant inquired. The priest's dark brown eyes wandered towards way of the temple. "How do you know this friend?"_

"_It's complicated."_

"_Is it?"_

"_It is," the priest smiled, before wandering off. _

_Thoth let his wander for a time. This priest had caught his interest. It was completely for knowledge's sake, of course. Of course, to see what occurred, you see? And what interesting proceedings they were. How a priest of Set knew a priestess of Ra was curious, no, but to him, it was the scroll she pressed into his hand that had him pondering even more so. Hmm... What was that? That lone whispered word on her lips. Could it have been Setne? Was he the reason for the need of this urgent transaction. Prince Khaamwaset… that was the one who sacrificed the bulls, no? What interest did he have in a priestess of Ra? Sure, she was pretty, but Setne didn't strike him to the be the type interested in physical attraction._

_The scroll hidden on his person, the priest of Set headed toward the desert. Thoth allowed the man to journey on for several weeks believing it was just him and his camel, until he appeared before the man. He didn't bow or beg; instead, he just looked at the god and said, "You are to take me back, yes?"_

"_I am suppose to, but I might be willing to reconsider," Thoth returned has he took a seat next to the priest, who tended a campfire. _

_The man nodded and reached into his robes to pull out the scroll. "This is what you desire, no?" Thoth warily took the papyrus scroll from the priest's outstretched hand. The scroll passed easily into his possession. After a skim of its contents the god shook his head in perplexment._

"_What is this?'_

_The priest smiled wistfully. "The simplest explanation would be that it is a way to change history."_

_Alarm filled the god's chest. "Who created this and for what reason?" _

"_Can you protect it?" was all the priest asked. _

"_Of course," the god answered. _

"_Then it's yours, Thoth," the priest spoke as he stood and strolled to take the bridle of his camel. "Now if you excuse me, I believe I have lingered longer than was safe. It was good to see you again, and not in the guise of a merchant." And so the priest vanished into the sands in exile, much like the god he praised. _

"Look, Thoth, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but of everyone I thought you might be the most willing to believe me," her demeanor had completely changed. The cold façade of smugness gone, replaced by a desperation that was vividly written upon her face. This girl wasn't evil, perhaps misguided, but at her core she was like a sad child, longing for the broken toy she held in her hand to somehow restore itself to the state that it had been when it was new.

"Why not Anubis? Did you not try him?" Thoth inquired.

"He's doomed," she mournfully sighed.

"Why?"

"Why?" she madly giggled. "Because I messed up, because I couldn't fix it, because a god loved a mortal."

"He's doomed because he loves you?"

She shook her head, "No, no…he was innocent, innocent in every way. He loved me, yes, and maybe it in some way led to this, but at the same time…"

"He was innocent?" Thoth predicted and Marisol's nod confirmed. "Then why is he doomed?" he repeated, hoping she was capable of providing a lucid reason.

"When you don't let a people learn from history, they can't learn the lesson they were meant to, so the incident must be repeated," her voice quivered with every grave word. "And Anubis, he's the curse's sick way of mocking my mistakes."

"What did you do?" Thoth gently inquired.

Her eyes were wild when they met his and her smile crazed, "What didn't I do?"

"Tell me."

She sat back in her chair and looked over at the channel. "It's a beautiful day, no?"

"Very."

"_It was a beautiful day that day, too. In the cool breezes of a drowsy dawn the tall grasses and wildflowers had sighed with lazy contentment while two young girls awoke in their homely hut wary of the work their mother had in store for them, but distracted as they were by the carefree songs of the playful bird they had ceased to care. _

"_Noon found them still smiling. Yet the white sheets, woven blankets, and assortment of garments didn't sway as usual upon their drying line; instead, the valley held its breath and refused to exhale. Did the girls notice the stillness of the air or the tentative watch of their mother? Perhaps, for a moment they had halted their merriment and silent questions had dared to one ask a thing or two, but it is more likely it went over their young heads as their hands and minds were preoccupied with the tasks of washing day._

"_Nightfall closed their eyes and allowed the nightingales to sing their obsequies. In the wild of the wood one of the two girls was carried by their father. The violence of the afternoon glazed across her eyes. Mother told her to run, she ran, but mother and sister… Mornings passed, nights fled, they walked. Such was life before. I was lucky. Unlike my village, Johnathan and I maintained our freedom unlike the many whose lives were traded for bondage, yet we all whispered one singular name. That of the one who had besieged our peaceful land with tyranny and violences previously unknown. 'Osiris,' we had whispered in solemn oaths of never-ending hatred."_

Osiris. Osiris burning villages? Wasn't wreaking havoc upon the innocent Set's forte? Thoth frowned. Marisol was having fun watching him; though, she was making an attempt at hiding her laughter. With a telltale smile she said, "So, I'm crazy, no? It's understandable, for it's against everything you've ever known, but let me ask you this. Who are Anubis's parents?"

This had to be a trick question. The answer was easily Set and Nephthys, right? Unless you actually believed that insidious rumor about Nephthys getting Osiris drunk so they could, you know, and thus Anubis would be the son of Osiris. That wasn't true; at least, Thoth hoped it wasn't. That would make Anubis like a half-brother to Sadie, right? Or something incestuous like that. As he made to answer she shushed him and said, "Sleep on it, Djehuti."

He ate alone as he had every night at the bare desk provided. A simple meal of chicken and rice. The same he was provided every night, except tonight a dessert had been added. A single piece of chocolate cake.

His stomach and mind seemed to spin as he looked up from his bed to the fan that went round and round above him. Time seemed to slow and every sound louder than it ought to be. He heard whispering in another room. Marisol, her brother, and another...but not the guards. There was another tenant in the house. One that kept a very low profile. Thoth would be lying if he claimed he hadn't thought over who it could be, but he simply didn't know enough about his companions, but upon sleeping upon it...the world seemed to him a much different one than the one he had known the night before.

The next morning, when the god meandered into the dining room, he didn't look well. Sure, a disheveled appearance wasn't new, but the harrowed look in his eyes and the sorrow did not belong. Boy, had he slept on it. His eyes bore into hers and he solemnly said, "In the beginning there were only two gods: Aphophis and Ma'at, and neither were evil."

Aka stabbed the fork into the omelette on her plate and left it there, standing up erect like some tower made of silver, as the egg cooled. Her response came cool and collect as she replied, "Indeed, that is true."

Thoth took the seat opposite her. His wariness of her was gone. It was unwarranted, for she was no longer a stranger. Acting upon newfound familiarity he boldly asked, "You're going to kill her aren't you?"

She shrugged. "If I must." Inside she was smiling. Maybe, she wouldn't have to.

"And to answer you're question, no. But why do I need you that? You're his wife."

Aka raised her cup of skim milk and gave her breakfast companion an affirmative nod.


	24. An Invitation to the Tea Party

**Author's Note: I hope you all had a Merry Christmas. Or a happy Hanukkah, Kwanza, etc. This really isn't Christmas-themed, but I hope you enjoy it, anyway. Reviews would be greatly appreciated; I also always love to hear your current theories or questions, so please feel free to either review or PM me. **

Back in New York, it was past the witching hour but before the light of day. It was the time of tossing and turning, when minds take to thinking about things you'd rather be forgetting, when shadows are given second glances, and noises seem louder. It was the time of night when your stomach feels hollow, but since it isn't yet day you remain in bed. Such was the predicament of Anubis, who, himself, was contemplating the mess that he had found himself entangled in.

What could he do now? Sadie had taken his confession for an attempt at humor. His mind was divided into two areas of conflict: firstly, was that truly what Sadie thought his sense of humor was like and, secondly, shouldn't he be feeling better, you know, less guilty inside? The first area he had resigned himself to simply shaking his head in disbelief and questioning how he could be marrying someone who didn't even know what his taste for humor consisted of. It was the other topic that bugged him. Surely, he couldn't be blamed for her not believing him; after all, he had confessed, and that was basically what he'd been trying to bring himself to do for several years now. So, he ought to feel better, no? Yet, he had told her, and now it was like an even heavier elephant had mistaken his chest for a bench.

And here he was still sleeping beside her. How his head throbbed and his stomach churned. His eyes deserted the shadowy greyness of Marisol's unadorned white ceiling and focused on a listless Sadie, who made a sleepy moan beside him as she drowsily rolled over in order to face him. "Carter, dinner," was all he made out of her sleep-slurred words.

Anubis nodded. Carter, dinner. As in when evening came, that is if day ever arrived (which at its current rate seemed rather unlikely), Carter and Zia were planning to stop by for dinner to check up on Sadie and to update them on the state of whole rogue affair. Instead of letting himself retreat into welcome slumbers he swung his legs over the bed. Maybe Marisol would answer this time. He really needed to hear her voice. It also wouldn't hurt if she was able to help him sort this out. When they were together things sure were complicated, yet for some reason around her the world seemed clearer. Not that around Sadie they were confusing, but Marisol… He gave one last glance towards the sleeping Sadie. Her blonde hair had tangled like the blankets that covered her, and her pillow had slid ever closer towards his, but now that he wasn't there she had unconsciously claimed the bed as hers. Outstretched and snoring he envied her the deep slumber that she thought nothing of.

Half-awake, half asleep, he trudged down the hall, careful to be as quiet as a mouse on Christmas Eve, towards the study when he noticed the light streaming into the corridor from under the door to Roselle's room and heard what sounded like muffled voices from within. Anubis looked at the grandfather clock whose hands stood still, the hour being two and minute just past the three, then toward the skyline beyond the dining table. Without doubt it was the middle of the night, yet from the young girl's room there came giggles and whispers. Giggles and whispers that didn't sound like those Roselle could give, and, Sadie, she was still asleep in the other bedroom. His mind leapt to the worse case scenario: had the other gods come for her, did they know?

His fingertips lightly kissed the golden spherical knob, but it was without a push from him that the door swung open. Anubis hesitantly entered a room awash in the bright blue-hued light of the LED bulb overhead. It was odd; the bed was empty and made, the toys were all put away, and, likewise, there wasn't a single piece of her clothing lying about as there usually was. Despite the sudden orderly condition of the room one thing was out of place: Roselle, who wasn't soundly asleep within the confines of her bed or sitting at the table where she often hosted tea parties for her and her toys. There was a glow coming from the closet, an observation made strange by the fact there was not a single overhead light in that closet. So, perhaps, it was a flashlight. Had to be. Roselle was probably in the closet... with a flashlight; though, why would she be in the closet with a flashlight when the bedroom light was on? Ignoring the tide of the questions breaking on his wall of sanity, the closet seemed the most likely place to find Roselle. Not to mention, from beyond its doors he heard the same giggles and hushed chatter that he had picked up on from the hall.

He had seen the within of that closet many times, for he had assisted Marisol in putting away the child's clothes and other belongings many times before. When the doors were opened, he didn't see the hangers, or the clothes, or the shoes that should've been there; instead, he saw black nothingness. Anubis shook his head and closed the door, only to find himself… somewhere. He had left the closet, yes; however, he had not returned to Roselle's room; though, this place he found himself was still a child's room, even if it wasn't of the current century. It was a palatial suite that's windows overlooked a landscape his heart immediately recognized as his own native Egypt. Stranger still was the child who the room belonged to, for it was the girl from the portrait. The same one Marisol, who for whatever reason he had thought of as Aka in the concerned dream, had been crying over. The same one, who looks were quite similar to those of his very own daughter, Roselle. It wasn't just looks that made them similar, for like Roselle played with her Eugracia, the young girl was playing with her own dolls.

The language she spoke predated even Archaic Egyptian; nonetheless, every word she spoke was clear to him as if he was fluent in this language he couldn't even name. Despite that disorienting realization there was an ominous foreboding to this place, which found him increasingly thinking of that dream where Marisol had held the girl's limp corpse and spoke of Egypt... she would have said 'lest it be destroyed.' Was this true? Was this small girl Egypt's doom? If so, why had Egypt forgotten her name?

Her assassin came way of the open doorway. Anubis's eyes widened as the recognizable person that would be his future brother-in-law frenziedly burst into the girl's nursery. There was red blood, fresh and not yet crusting, that already stained the gold of the curved khopesh held in his right hand, but enough of the cold metal was clear enough that the wide eyes of Lucia were vividly reflected within its gleam. If this Carter possessed mercy it was not shown in the angry, almost cruel contours of his face. Indeed, he looked more an enraged Horus then Carter Kane.

Lucia dared to look him in the eye. Dared to speak, regardless of the smallness of her voice. "Good day. I don't believe we have met before," she said in an attempt to restore some level of normalcy. Anubis feared that she knew as he did that these, her last, moments on this earth were ticking by.

"Who am I?" Carter sneered. "Who am I? I am the brother of the girl your mother murdered."

Lucia paled. "Please," she murmured as the sword lifted. She whimpered, "Please,sir. Please..." Anubis shut his eyes, but he knew the girl, Lucia had not. Her eyes forever held the image of her killer there in the black of her pupil.

Anubis bent and kissed the child's forehead. "I'm sorry," he murmured...

When he stood, the scenery had changed. This room that he now stood was one of high ceilings, rows of benches, and of ceremonial status. Sitting in the benches or walking around there were many familiar faces; for example, he saw Tawaret beside Bes, who blatantly looked a tad uncomfortable, and it didn't help he couldn't stop staring toward Bast, who was speaking with Hathor. He saw also Nut and Geb, strangely beside one another as Shu was only a few feet away. However, for every familiar face there was one of a stranger. Such as the woman beside Thoth. The two seemed to in love, but Anubis had never met the woman and considering how long he had known Thoth, he ought to be knowing such things. Another unfamiliar face sat beside her. With blond hair and green eyes he looked very much like the woman and was of an age that Anubis didn't dare guess if they were siblings or if he was her son. Stranger or not the crowd seemed to be finding their seats, all except for his father, Set, who came up striding up to Anubis and standing in place beside him. With a mischievous grin his father leaned and whispered, "Congratulations, my boy. Why look at this crowd? Even Queen Eugracia..." Set gestured to the blonde that Anubis had noticed beside Thoth. He didn't hear the rest of what his father said; instead, he saw Roselle's doll whose own golden curls and emerald eyes mirrored those of her namesake.

Anubis felt pretty stupid, for it shouldn't have taking the first notes of a wedding march to clue him in to what event had brought this horde together. Why hadn't he noticed the nice robes he was wearing or the fact that every time he had spoken to he had received a congratulations? That said, if he was the groom and this was his wedding, where were the Kanes? Another glance at the crowed told he exactly what he thought: they were not there. There was no Carter and Zia. Amos was not present. Likewise Ruby and Julius were absent. Curiously, Julius's other half, Osiris was nowhere to be seen, along with his wife and son. Anubis felt a tad wounded that Isis, who had raised him, had failed to show. To think he had always held her so high. Then again, his mother hadn't shown either. What was new there, though?

After what seemed like an eon of expectant stares and soft murmuring his bride made an appearance. Unlike the modern custom of a bride hiding her face under a veil, her face was clearly identifiable and enabling him to make sense of the absent Kanes. She was not Sadie. However, that did not mean his bride was stranger to him.

His lips reciprocated the beaming smile she gave him has her hands rested atop his. Forever, they mutually promised as vows, along with rings and a kiss, were exchanged.

When the kiss broke his eyes were forced to adjust to light of the lamps that lined the walls. Incense burned and somewhere ancient hymns were being sun. Anubis's lip quivered and his heart threatened to cease beating. "No, no, please no," he whispered. Don't let it be then, don't be there. Yet it was, for this was her temple. The tears came without protest, every step he took the stream running down his cheeks became wider. The devout hymns suddenly silenced, replaced with the anguished yells of a soon to be deadly squabble.

"Where is it? Where is it?" Anput's assailant, Khaemwaset repeated hysterically. Anubis ran to his love, to her pleas for help. Why was no one coming? Was he the only one who heard her? He came too late. Setne's tight grip around her neck had already stolen her final breath. When Anubis attempted to pull the murderer away from her, Anubis found himself only a phantom. Only a phantom doomed to watch the death of his love and of his daughter.

Setne's focus had left the dead priestess and moved onto the small girl, who wide-eyed and trembling, was paralyzed by the shock of seeing her mother murdered. "Now, now, little dear. We don't have to do anything we don't have to…"

Kebechet shook her head, "Daddy is going…"

"Don't mention him."

The little girl frowned. "… to kill you." Anubis shut his eyes tight. He was only a phantom and couldn't anything. Nothing at all…

"Daddy?" a chorus of three called out to him. He opened his eyes, wary of what ghastly event he'd be forced to watch next. The scene before was ghastly in an entirely different manner than the previous violent episodes. Before him was a little girl's tea party was ready for a company of three. Two girls were already present. In their dark eyes that bore into his their deaths were replayed. The dress Lucia wore was stained by the blood that had streamed from her slit throat while Kebechet's throat was simply bruised. Lucia set down the tiny doll-sized teacup she been drinking from and frowned. Her eyes traveled away from Anubis and settled on the person that their third seat was reserved for and whose small hand he held only tighter. Roselle's eyes widened and she faintly murmured, "Daddy."

Sadie was still snoring beside him and the night was still yet to become day, but that didn't stop him from jumping out of bed. He pulled from the Duat a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt. Anubis glanced at the sleeping Sadie, so Carter was coming to dinner. Now, he knew he was letting the nightmare get to him, but he couldn't let Roselle take her seat at that tea party. She was alive, and he wasn't going to let another follow in those phantoms' paths. The Twenty-First Nome thought it was Sadie that was in danger; whereas, Anubis knew better: Roselle was in danger. She'd always been the one in danger, and he had stupidly been trying to convince himself otherwise. So he knew he had get her out of New York, at least, while Carter and Zia were visiting, but where to go, to whom could he trust her with. Then it came to him. The one place he had always felt safe, a place where sipping warm hot sahlab he had never thought twice about confiding his secret thoughts and worries.

Roselle stared at him in drowsy irritation. "Daddy, it's only four in the morning. Where are we going?"

He kissed her forehead and gently replied, "You'll see?" as he buttoned up her sweater and straightened her headband. She looked adorable; he just hoped it was enough to ensure the child's safety. What he was going to ask meant possibly endangering someone who had always been kind to him. If he wasn't desperate, he wouldn't be doing this, but the fresh pain of seeing Anput's and Kebechet's deaths fueled him to do all that was in power to prevent such a fate for Marisol and his Roselle.

* * *

Marisol's nose crinkled at the sulfur stench of the water that poured from the faucet into the porcelain basin of the sink. Grabbing a plush hand towel off the rack, she cleared a portion of the mirror so that her reflection stared back at her. Her hair was tangled and mangled from the shower and her skin clear enough, but the dark rings beneath her eyes unnerved her more than she wanted them to. Sleep wasn't something she had been getting a lot of lately, but she hadn't known exactly how much it had been taking a toll upon her. She sighed as the clear of the mirror once more became fog.

After her conversation with Djehuti she had meant to call the apartment and check up on Roselle and, very well, Anubis; however, that was not an option, for the house lacked a landline and, alas, her phone had to be in Jonathan's truck, for it wasn't on her person. She hoped no one had tried to call. She hoped Roselle was alright. Please let her be alright, her heart silently prayed. Her eyes wandered down to her palms. Was it just a trick of the mind or did blood stain them?


	25. The Gears Of the Clock

**Sorry, I haven't updated in so long. I feel I owe you guys an explanation. You see, last year and most of this year my time hasn't been occupied by much other than homework, but just this past month or so I've suddenly grow very busy with clubs, sports conditioning, and the school musical. I really hope my schedule lightens up soon, but until then my schedule is going to be awfully hectic. **

**Q-nagisa, thanks again for your editing assistance, and, yeah, I made some more revisions since.**

**Dearest latest Guest Reviewer: Thank you for your criticisms. I'll use them to the best of my ability to better this story****.**

** As always, I hope every one is doing well, but if you're not, well, I hope things get better for you. For those coping with winter's worst, I feel you. Whiteouts and negative temperatures make the living worthwhile, no? Those who are sick, ugh. It sucks. Myself, I've been coughing up phlegm for almost three weeks now, which is made especially fun as I'm in choir. **

**Read and enjoy, and review if you'd be so kind. Hopefully, I'll update sooner, but we'll have to see and I won't make promises I can't keep. Though, I can promise that I will continue and sometime conclude this. That said, if you're ever wondering where I'm at, I do try to keep a status of how far along the next chapter is on my Profile. **

** Always, JU.**

It wasn't waking up to an empty bed in the early afternoon light that had Sadie Kane, bluntly put, pissed. Granted, she had already figured Anubis would be up before her; however, she couldn't help how she felt. When her eyes finally figured they were up to greeting the new day, it hurt some to find that the blankets and sheets were thrown back, mangled and Anubis absent from his place beside her where he'd fallen asleep the night before.

Like most mornings, she wearily tried to ensconce herself further under the comfort of the covers. Sighing in blissful content, she thought over how she would have to ask that auburn where she bought her bedding. This fabric was so soft and, despite however cliché the comparison was, the mattress could definitely be a cloud, yet, no matter how hard Sadie clenched her eyes tight, she just couldn't get back to sleep. Tossing and turning, she ran through her head possible answers for what the problem might be, suddenly realizing how very quiet it was. Now, sure, she could hear the faint sound of a car alarm going off somewhere down below. Even within the apartment building there came, from a floor or two below, the distinct bars of Bruno Mars's "When I Was Your Man" streaming from a stereo and the from upstairs the chipper tone of a newscasters was seeping through ceiling in his usual format.

Maybe the world hadn't got the memo to shut up so Sadie could properly get back to sleeping in, but Marisol's apartment certainly had. It was absolutely mute, and considering its inhabitants were a 5,000 year old funeral god (a.k.a. probably the worst noise maker to ever step foot in a kitchen) and a five year-old, that was more than a little odd. Now, there are some truly splendid children in the world; Sadie had no doubt there were, but what child is absolutely not-making-any-sound quiet in the early afternoon? It was unlikely Roselle was taking a nap.

After ten minutes of unnerving silence Sadie Kane figured she ought to investigate. Her findings? No Anubis, no Roselle, and no note. He must have either placed the note in a place she hadn't thought of checking in the space she'd already turned inside out looking or, and this was unlikely, Anubis had not left one behind. Which, of the latter, Sadie knew wasn't possibly the case. No, it was somewhere; she'd just skimmed over it. When Anubis returned he would present the note to her and they could laugh about how Sadie had been unable to find it in its very, ridiculously so, obvious placement.

Yet the question of where he and Roselle had gone off to bugged her, along with the question of why hadn't he at least bothered telling her. As she showered, she pondered whether he had, in fact, made mention of his leaving. Maybe he'd told her, but she had been half-asleep, or possibly he'd brought it up in a conversation a couple of days ago and she'd simply forgotten it. It had to have been one of those, for there hadn't been a note or so she had dismally concluded (there was no other place she could think of that required searching).

As she threw on a T-shirt and sweats settled down on the couch to watch reruns of Game of Thrones, she relived every conversation they had in recent memory, often reaching for fragments that were just beyond her grasping. Every time she heard steps in the hall, she caught herself absentmindedly watching the doorknob, waiting for it to open and her fiance to enter. When the knob didn't turn, when he didn't return, her eyes wandered over to the great behemoth that was Marisol's grandfather clock. It was getting late, and one would think he would have returned by now. And Carter and Zia were coming over.

But Anubis didn't return, at least, not in time. For when seven rolled around, Sadie was dressed in a nice black dress that nicely coordinated with her engagement ring; the ring she kept twisting around her finger. How she wanted to be angry at him, but she knew how well she couldn't be. Instead, she felt confused. It wasn't fair that he was able to make her feel this way.

As she drained the pasta she heard the buzzer go off, signifying her older brother and his wife were here while Anubis irredeemably was not. The first question to come from her brother's mouth a few minutes later once she opened the door was inquisitive, "Where's Anubis?"

Her attempt at nonchalance found her saying, "Death Boy's just running some errands. He's running late, so he doesn't know if he'll be back before dinner's done."

Carter nodded, but the suspicion lingering in his eyes revealed he wasn't about to let his future brother-in-law off on such a vague excuse. "What errands specifically?"

She began to formulate a response, but gratefully was interrupted by Zia's voice from the living room.

"Carter, come here," she abrasively ordered. When they reached her side she was pale and distant as if she had met with a ghost...or a lookalike more specifically, as she herself would explain. "It's the twin," she murmured. The shock of finding it didn't resonate with Sadie as it did with Carter, who mirrored Zia's open mouth and gaze that would not shift away from the timepiece.

Sadie wasn't looking at the clock, rather, she was looking at them. "Twin? Um...why are we looking at Marisol's clock?"

"Because," Carter answered, "there was a clock just like this one in Asya's childhood home," he pointed to the clock as if specification had been required. "Our guide said they were custom pair, and one had been sold at auction. Though, she said it ended up in France."

"I see, well…" Sadie stared at the clock in perplexment. She didn't know what to think. Marisol surely didn't know of this, probably had gathered it was a lovely antique and bought it. It was impossible for Sadie's mind to think about the other option as it wouldn't be Marisol-like.

"We should open it," Carter commented.

"Open it?" Sadie repeated.

"There was a compartment behind the face of the other, so that's likely the case with this one," Zia explained.

Sadie nodded, asking, "Okay, so how do we open it?"

"With a key."

"No magic?"

"Well, we never tried, but I don't think it would work," Carter pondered while Zia jostled through the contents of her bag, which she'd just pulled from the Duat. Finding the golden key, she handed it to Sadie to hand to Carter once he'd moved the hands of the clock to three and nine. "Key?" Sadie pressed it into his palm. All three stared, transfixed as they heard a click but when the face swung open there was no compartment, only the internal workings of a clock. Carter touched his hand against the golden gears. "But…"

"There should've been…"

At that moment the apartment door opened, but not to a fashionably late Anubis; instead, Marisol had arrived home early.

"Get away from that clock," Marisol barked. When they didn't, they were rather startled to be seeing her, she angrily added an irrefutable, "Now!" Needless to say, they hastily backed away from the clock.

Marisol left her suitcases abandoned by the slammed shut door, before closing the clock face and stowing the key safely in her back pocket.

"Marisol, it's just a clock," Sadie began, silenced by Marisol's piercing glare.

"Just a clock," Marisol repeated in perturbed awe. "Just a clock? My Aunt Clare left it to my dad in her will." Her voice was swallowed up in a stutter of sobs.

"Your Aunt Clare? She was the one who lived in France, right?" Sadie guessed, only to make the situation worse and or more awkward for the Kanes. She could only guess how they looked in the blue eyes of her friend. They, the horrible souls that were messing around with the clock that had once belonged to the very, Marisol was sobbing horrendously, beloved Aunt Clare.

"No, don't you ever listen to what I say? Aunt Clare was my dad's favorite sister; she died of cancer when I was nine." So, the Kanes could only stand their guiltily staring down at their feet with their heads bowed in shame. Wiping her frenzied tears away, a red-faced Marisol added, "And she lived in Finland."

Sadie reached to touch her friend's shoulder, but Marisol jumped at her touch; therefore, Sadie's arm receded back to its previous resting place beside her waist. "I'm sorry," she apologized.

Marisol sniffled, nodding in acknowledgment of the apology. Hoarsely, she stated, "I'd like it if all of you left." When there was silence, she added a timid, "Please."

"Even me?" Sadie remarked. Marisol meekly nodded, leaving her friend flabbergasted.

"I guess I'll go gather my things then," Sadie voiced, a tinge of insult creeping into her tone.

"Or you could come back tomorrow," Marisol suggested, those blue eyes still studying the intricate grain of the floorboards.

"Or I could come back tomorrow," Sadie agreed, submitting to the guidance of her brother's firm hold on her shoulder. As the three of them filed into the elevator, Sadie commented, "Marisol was acting awfully funny tonight."

"Well, we were messing with her clock," Carter commented as he pressed the button for the main floor.

"I wonder what's wrong with her," Sadie murmured.

Back in the apartment, Marisol held the key in her hand. The stupid trinket wouldn't have yielded anything in this clock, though her chest still felt so tight as if she couldn't breath; even if Sadie had gone through the apartment there was nothing here to betray her secrets…except the clock, but its compartment was inaccessible using the key. No, the small item wouldn't reveal such a thing. To open that compartment something more was required: blood, specifically her blood. Then again, she had taken a risk, for, no doubt, Roselle's blood would've worked just as well. A sudden panic seized her; where was Roselle?

Hours later she lay in her bed, wide awake. Where was Roselle? Anubis? Images of the worst tormented her, configuring the shadows cast upon her wall into the ghosts of past horrors. She saw the blue eyes staring back in hers, so innocent in their ignorance and both being so set in their way, was it a wonder—

Marisol jolted up as the apartment door opened, then shut. Every footstep stepped on route to her bedroom seemed to shake the earth or, at least, the building. Her door opened and Anubis's eyes met hers; his startled expression relayed to her that he was neither glad nor disappointed to be seeing her, but, of course, the first question that came from his mouth was not an inquiry of her well being, rather, "Where's Sadie?"

"She went home. With Carter," Marisol provided. "Where's Roselle?"

"With my grandmother."

"I see." She could breath again. Nut was nice. A friend even, unlike Shu. Stuck in his stubborn way, Shu.

"She's a lovely person. Roselle's in good hands, trust me."

"You don't need to ask me. Roselle is your daughter, and I already trust you," she assured him. Anubis sat beside her, the bed subsequently groaning as his weight was added.

"Why?" he asked incredulously. Marisol shrugged, a small smiled tugging at her lips. He really wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. Instead he resolved himself to the business at hand. "We need to talk."

Marisol nodded. "I got your messages. Sorry, I didn't call. I was unable to, you see? I left my phone in the frontseat of my ride's truck."

"It's alright. Your uncle's well?"

The smile she gave him was forced, like her tone. "A miraculous recovery." He didn't push the topic, instead, allowing the conversation to get where it was headed.

"So you told her."

"Attempted to."

"Attempted to," Marisol dismally repeated. Anubis's hand placed itself atop hers. "What are you going to do now?"

"I want to break up with her."

Marisol sighed and shook her head. "But," she pressed, knowing him so very well.

"I don't think I can."

She frowned and removed her hand from his, snuggling back under her covers. "I don't want to talk."

He nodded. "Then I'll leave," yet as he made to do so, Marisol's hand reached for his.

"Please don't?" The wall he had built between them was demolished with the vulnerability in her voice, yet his conviction that him and Sadie must go their separate ways was only furthered by his returned to his lover's bed.

With Marisol's head resting on the pillow beside his own head, Anubis inquired, "Are you still awake?"

There was no response; perhaps, that was what gave him courage enough to make his confession. "Marisol, I'm a god."

She didn't reply, so he closed his eyes and allowed him to slip into the dreamy haze of sleep's seductive clutches.

He woke early the next morning to the other side of the bed empty and the red numbers of the alarm clock mocking him. Upon stumbling through the apartment he finally found her in her study, quietly but seriously speaking on the phone. She bid the person on the other end good day and set the phone back in its place. Absentmindedly, Marisol rubbed her eyes. She'd obviously been up for some time.

"Who was that?" Anubis inquired, leaning against the doorframe.

"Nobody."

His brow wrinkled at her blatant lie. As she strode by him she remarked casually, "By the way, your father dropped Roselle off."

Anubis nearly choked. "My father!" Marisol glanced at him in concern, before nodding.

"Yes, your father," she repeated. She was holding his hand now, fingers wrapping around his own. "Don't worry, he behaved himself."

"Did he?" Anubis murmured in disbelief. Behaving and Set were opposites of the spectrum. To be behave meant to conform to order's laws and rituals, something Set would gladly tell anyone he simply wasn't into… "Marisol, was he weird at all? If something was off, I can explain."

"Anubis, you don't need to explain. I already know." She knew. She knew? So...

"You heard me last night," he stated, perplexed by how calm she was. How unafraid and unimpressed she was by this. He almost hurt that she wasn't a bit more in awe of the fact, but then again, Marisol wasn't that type.

"Yeah, I did." Why was she smiling? Did she think he was joking like Sadie had? Oh Ra, he really did need to work on his humor by mastering the arts of sarcasm and knock-knock.

"But you didn't reply." She laughed and shook her head. He had made a joke?

With a casual shrug, she told him the truth of how she saw his godliness. "It wasn't something that needed talking over. You're a god, and I'm a rogue."


	26. His Devilish Laughter

**Hi, I hope I didn't take too long to update. If I did, I apologize. I don't even have a good excuse. Rather, I guess, I 'm in shock by the amount of time I now have on my hands. That said, I'm not complaining, it's preferable to the alternative. **

**Review wise: Thanks for those who have given reviews. I appreciate them always. **

**PainteDreamer and Medolia, glad you enjoy the coupling. Thanks, PainteDreamer, you made me blush. **

**Brianna86, I hope you were able to find the answers to some of your questions. If not, feel free to ask again.**

**The Queen Reader, I cast no judgment. Your opinion is your opinion. **

**One last comment, I did the sections of this chapter a tad tiny bit different, by adding a heading meant to aid figuring out the time each section is taking place. If you like me doing it this way, please tell either in a review or a PM. Same, if you hate the addition of headings. As always if you have questions, ask away. Reviews are appreciated, and thanks for just reading this. I wish you all the best. May you not have to be scraping raisins off your textbook/everything else in your backpack as I had to today. Well, could've been worse. Could've been old milk. **

* * *

**Early Morning...**

At two o'clock in the morning, stairwells are awfully quiet, Marisol concluded.

The only sound in the lonesome corridor came from the dull, cheerless echo of her footsteps on the sickly pea-green, systematically dotted for traction rubber floor. The only thing to be seen in the forsaken passage were all-consuming, suffocating in their white blankness, walls. Oh, and steps, an endless number of those. To be sure, there was also the occasional find of a door, neatly marked by a red exit sign hanging above it.

Her ponytail holder, the only thing keeping her messy bun together, waged a losing battle against her day weary curls. In addition, her head throbbed, had since noon, since... She loudly groaned, for the pulsing in her temple was nothing to the aching soles of her feet; it had been a mistake to choose the black heels.

Perhaps, she ought to have taken the elevator, after all. Yet, the stairs did offer her one benefit.

Time.

Time to force a smile. Time to wipe the tired from her eyes. Alas...time to think about, well, how truly screwed up everything was, or how there was no one, save herself, to blame for it all. If she hadn't followed the order through, everything would have been better. Yet... she could almost hear her cousin laughing in devilish glee over her suffering. Her decision had broken him; it was the reason he snapped, the reason he became a monster. In blaming the idiocy of the girl, she only showed her own hypocrisy. At the end of the day, who was she to judge? After all, in the eyes of the gods and Per Ankh, she was doing the same exact thing _that girl_, that girl she had loathed so very much for millennia, had foolishly done.

As if anything might actually be able redeem her, she had, _at least_, confessed to Anubis... somewhat. To be sure, he wasn't ready to be told everything. He wouldn't believe everything. That being said, she had jumped the worst hurdle by telling him she was a rogue. In her experience, after that revelation was made, the rest was easier for one to say and for the other to accept...

_The silence made her ill. She fought her instinct to flee, for that would only make the situation worse by taking her further from what she wanted: him. _

_Still Anubis wouldn't speak, and she the dread grew thicker and more demanding with every passing second. Looking at him, at the despondent way he sat slouched on the couch rubbing his brow, only able to shake his head in baffled disbelief; she knew it hadn't been the right way to come clean to him. However, thinking on it, nothing could have possibly prepared him for it, so… _

_"You're a rogue?" Anubis ventured, ensuring his ears weren't, in fact, fooling him. She made a mistake in meeting his eyes, for in them a mosaic of confusion, dismay, and, as she had feared in her darkest moods, suspicion that now clouded his view of her. _

_"Yeah, I am," she sadly confirmed. How she could she help it? She hadn't asked to be born Eugracia's heir nor Sadie's enemy. Wishing that fact wasn't fact was a pointless endeavor. If it had any merit, she wouldn't be in this complicated mess: she would have Anubis and Sadie wouldn't be an issue._

_Quicker than she would've of liked, Anubis's thoughts turned to Miss Kane; as a result, she knew what questions were to come. However, this was her Anubis, so even if it meant her ruin, she would answer. __"Marisol, tell me, honestly," he was trying to be commanding, but his voice came out broken, torn asunder in the war between heart and duty. Hesitant, he was afraid of accusing her, yet he_ _had_ _to know the truth of the matter. "Are you…I mean…Are you plan—I." _

_"Anubis." Though insistent tears stung, she managed not to weep. She bit her lips to stay silent, to keep herself from saying things she ought not to be saying quite yet. _

_"So you would. Wouldn't you?" he inferred, his words came quiet. For he still had hope, Marisol would prove him wrong. _

_"You have to understand," she began, no eagerness present in her usually mellifluous voice._

_"Understand?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "What is there to understand? If you're a rogue, then…. We're enemies." Her blue eyes, watery with withheld sorrow, sought his attention, but he was not able to meet them. Not now, maybe never again._

_"No," Marisol softly croaked as her resolve fell away and the tears snaked down her cheeks. Sitting beside him, she begged him to look at her, to meet her eyes, going as far as to grab his face and forcing him to look at her, to see that she was here. "We don't have to be," Marisol pleaded, but Anubis, curse his stubbornness, wasn't as sure._

_"Then you don't want to kill Sadie?"_

_"No, of course, not," she assured him. It wasn't a lie, exactly._

_"But the threats," he pressed._

_Marisol paused. The threats, indeed. Alas, Anubis read her silence as confession. _

_"Oh, Osiris, forgive me," he murmured to himself. "Gods," he cursed, pacing. Paced from one wall to the other until he stopped, looked her way and asked, his desperation seeping through his fragile plea, "Tell me, did you love me at all, or were you…" he stopped, struck by the thought of her betrayal._

_Not waiting for him to continue, without a second thought she declared, "I love you. I do, but Anubis I love my family and…"_

_Anubis stopped her. How he could he could he judge her loyalty to her family? Was he not loyal to Osiris and Isis for the same reasons? He sat beside her and took her hand, bringing it to his lips in a brittle attempt at romance. He forced a smile in effort to show he understood, though, he was still rather overwhelmed, telling her the thoughts that plagued his mind: "I know, but, well, I don't know what to do. I can't turn you in to Carter. The House would execute you and Ammit knows what would happen to Roselle; on the other hand, I can't let you or any other rogue hurt Sadie." _

_Marisol smiled through the last of her sobs. He didn't even have to see her nod to know she understood, she had always understood. The words she'd said to him that day in the hospital when they had been looking at their daughter were evidence enough of that. She had always traveled a precarious path, but now they would walk it together, somehow..._

Marisol sighed, exhausted with her prospects and these blasted stairs. She ought to have taken the elevator. She wouldn't have to think so much about her failures. Surprised, she found herself at her door. A deep a breath and yet another false smile, or, at least made an attempt, just in case Roselle was still awake as she fished the key out of her purse. Her hand found the small metal key cruelly wedged underneath her wallet and caught on the key chain holding her library card and a broken compass. Unfortunately, the metal end had began to unwind, and the metal was sharp enough that once her unsuspecting hand met its point it merited a sudden yelp. Thus, the purse clattered to the ground; its contents spilled upon the carpet of the hallway floor. Bending down, she could only hope the Neosporin wouldn't prove just as treacherous to find.

**The Next Day, Mid-Afternoon**

"I see you got the invite," Lacy inferred. Her eyes warily watched as the knife deftly cut through its victim, a red-skin potato, freshly bought from the grocery store that morning.

Not backing away from her savage attack of a defenseless vegetable, Marisol grumpily muttered on about her romantic woes often using words that Lacy wouldn't think of repeating in her mother's presence.

"Now, now," Lacy cooed, placing a tentative hand on her friend's shoulder. With a loud scoff, Marisol slapped the sharp utensil down on the counter. Hands moving to untie her apron, she led the way into the dining room. Not waiting for Lacy to seat herself, Marisol slumped right down. Her hands gripped her knees as the light of day vanished in the wake of dead hours. In glass eyes, faces of past acquaintances swam in front of her while Lacy ceased to exist to those mournful blue orbs.

"Lace, I've seen this before, and it won't end well," Marisol promised. A sudden chill had Lacy thinking there must be a draft.

"Anubis isn't your cousin," Lacy protested in vain.

"I know, but they aren't all that different from one another. It's not hard to see why the curse selected him as the replacement," Marisol reflected, sliding farther and farther down into the chair, looking anywhere but at the Lace and the clock. The timepiece continued on _ticking_ and a _tocking;_ sand continued pouring faster and faster from the cracked hourglass.

Confused, the love goddess' daughter inquired further, curious. "What do you mean?"

"I mean both were other children." Marisol began, her voice regaining a sense of urgency. "You know, looked over, seemingly forgettable and unimportant, not great nor utterly meek, terribly out of place, yet stuck there regardless." She despised herself for voicing such thoughts, but the description was unfortunately a sadly accurate portrayal of her cousin. Though, she couldn't claim knowing Anubis's _family_ well, she did know there had been certain comparisons made between Anubis and Horus. Marisol had been her cousin's Horus. It was a wonder he hadn't loathed her more.

"What happened to your cousin after..." Lacy stopped short, vividly remembering the regret soaked words that had she been given earlier that summer. "I mean, he died. But before."

"He didn't die," Marisol snapped, abruptly sitting up. Her fingers nervously danced on the tabletop.

"Oh," the blonde murmured in shock. "Then, um."

"Well, that's not entirely true. Some parts did die. Like his compassion and…" Marisol was quiet. Her face had gone pale and she had begun to shiver; although, the room was sweltering, through the windows rays of the dying day's sun cast upon the dining room table. "It's unwise to speak his name, for now it is synonymous with evil. You see, that's what he became. Something cruel and hating that can't die, can't love, and can't forgive. That's all that's left. Except there might be..."

"Go on." Lacy leaned forward. Her grandmother might've scolded her relentlessly, for her elbows rested on the table.

"It's not proven, but some part, some little something of his humanity might still be somewhere."

"Where?"

"In the clock."

Lacy slowly turned her neck to get a good look at the timepiece she had never paid much attention to before today. "Well, that's oddly specific," she commented.

"Is it?"

**Some hours later...**

The faint clang, alerting them of the hour, could faintly be heard from the other room; though, it's chiming went mostly unnoticed. The night was already late, but Anubis was hardly tired. Close as they were: their breaths were one rhythm, their heartbeats were one pulse. Their heads rested upon a shared pillow, and their foreheads kissed. His arm protectively wrapped around her waist kept pulled to him. Close enough he could smell the watered down smell of citrus that clung to her skin, like her faintly damp hair, was a reminder of the shower she'd just before bed. A silly laugh slipped from his lips, the result of the wayward curl tickling his nose. Carefully, he brushed it away. Nonetheless, Marisol stirred. Her eyes barely open, she lazily smiled, seeing him beside her. Though, she smiled, it was still there: the distance, the wall she'd was building to prepare herself for what was to come.

"Marisol?" he dared.

"Yes." Her eyelids shyly fluttered open; her voice, small like a child's.

"Did you get the invite?" Her body grew stiff, as taut as the thick silence. Anubis swallowed. "Look…"

"I know, you're marrying Sadie."

He placed a hand upon her bare shoulder, but she was aloof to his affections, turning it away. "I thought there was a rule about relationships between gods and mortals."

"There is," he began, sitting up to get a better look at her.

Marisol was quiet for several minutes leading Anubis to think, perhaps, she had fallen into sleep's clutches once more; however, her soft voice reached out to confirm otherwise,"Sadie's mortal, so…"

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips."You're mortal, too, Marisol." Rolling over, she gave him an indignant look. "I am not."

"So you're not going to die?" His hand found itself buried in her thick curls, carting his fingers threw. If it was his choice, she would live as he did, forever. Marisol relaxed, eyes closing, merely whispering in response. "I didn't say that."

Chuckling, Anubis shook his head bemused with her logic. "But that's what mortal means."

"Uh-huh," she began, her eyes locked with his. "You can die, and you're immortal."

Anubis raised a dark brow. "No, I can't."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Marisol insisted, finally sitting up herself.

Frowning, the god pulled his hand back, setting it (reluctantly) upon his lap once more.

"Care to explain, my love?"

Marisol sat up, quiet once more. Her eyes wandered over to the dark window. He tilted his head in perplexment, for it seemed she was putting her answer off; searching for the moon, or, rather, a place behind it that no longer existed. Finding that the clouds hid the stars and inky black, she sighed. Adjusting the pillow behind them to lean back against, she ran a slender finger across his cheek. "Very well. In the before, there were only two gods, and neither were evil."

His eyes lit up with curiosity; his ears perked. "This a long story?" he smirked.

"The longest." Her voice was melancholy. His hand ran down her arm until it found her hand where it stayed. Like a mother kisses her child when they are ill, Anubis kissed her forehead. Not because it actually helps, but rather because it's all you can do.

Marisol pushed him back against the pillows. Chuckling he caught the wrist of the hand that had taken to tracing the line of his face. "Well, go on," he ordered, playfully, of course.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

She sighed, laying down beside him with her head resting on his chest. Was it her imagination, or had her blood gone cold? Hopeful prayers not said were her only defense against him, may he not take her retelling of his past as an invitation to return from the depths of the Duat. "Two gods, a mother and her son. While the mother represented all that was good and traditional, her son represented the promise of change. There were many years that the country prospered, but threat besieged in the kingdom in the form of three pharaohs, the willing slaves of greed…"

**At the time of the Before...**

The first time his eyes were set upon her, he was in the market. Seeking a change of clothing, for the set he wore were a sore sight and an embarrassment to his rank. Of course, he had had a change, but bandits... He didn't get the best look at her, the crowded market had intervened. Though she wore the unassuming garments of a peasant, he had been able to tell she was more. No peasant held a head that high. Not to mention, a set of devoted handmaidens were trailing her diligently, thus, giving her away as a noble escaping the stifling atmosphere of palace life.

The first time she saw him, his lips kissed the palace floor before her.

He had left the delta and its festivities with the royal party, contrary to his desire no audience had been granted to him there; thus, to Thebes he had journeyed.  
Thick lines of kohl gave dramatic emphasis to the dazzling blue of her eyes, still glowing with youthful mischief, her braided hair was a dark gold, richer than any coin. Upon her arms and ankles jewel embedded circlets of gold rested snugly against her pale skin that betrayed the days spent in the shadows of the palace. Her dress, white and bordering sheer, was made of the native fabric, and fit her well; though, it was the elaborate headdress and heavy collar that established her nobility this time. Though, her confidence was undiminished.

Her eyes, beautiful as they were, scrutinized him while her mouth morphed into a small pout. "So," she disdainfully began, "you're the son of Ma'at."

He dared a look, then a question. "Is that bad or good?"

It didn't even take a moment for her to shrug, and then deem him worthy of an answer, "Neither, but you are her son."

"I know that I am."

"You're not what I was expecting." She frowned, but not out of disappointment. Nor sadness. Rather, it was a child of discontent. It was doubtful, she had ever come across something that didn't comply to the way she thought it ought to live.

"Which was what?"

A hint of a smiled teased him from the left corner of her mouth. "Good. I had thought you'd be the boring sort; however, you're not that kind are you?" It was a challenge.

The right answer was to tell her she was mistaken. He was that sort, yet he desired to please her.

"Well," she pressed.

"You're right. I'm not that kind," he replied, pleased with mischievous glee she took pains to hide.

"I was thinking of taking a stroll through our gardens. Would you care to walk with me?" she coolly inquired.

He bowed his head and took her hand. "It would be an honor, princess."


	27. The People of Ma'at

**First, to acknowledge the elephant in the room, I'm well aware I haven't updated in quite some time. In my defense, I can only offer the lame excuse that school was wrapping up for the year. That said, AP exams, final exams, and concerts/ceremonies are a lot to manage in those last two months. Still, my time has freed up since. Perhaps, another reason was that horrible ailment, writer's block, and the other distraction that has kept from continuing updates was, in fact, books. I haven't been reading too much this year. Too much schoolwork, you see? So, when the load lightened, allowing me to pick up a book again, I was delighted. However, I fear I haven't ceased binge reading since May (after AP exams), and that has taken a toll on my writing. I'm a bit one-track minded in regard to writing or reading. When I'm in a writing mood, I write. When I'm in a reading mood, I read. I've been working on trying to strike a balance, and hopefully, that will be result in more updates...sooner? (That said, feel free to pester me, I work best under pressure). However, I make no promises. In regard to this chapter, it's one that I've been excited about posting for awhile, so I'd be delighted to hear your comments on it. As always, make life be treating you well, and for fellow Americans, I hope you had a happy 4th of July!**

Ptomelaic Egypt, 30 BCE

_He shivered but not from the cool of the evening air. Rather, it was the day that had seen him to sleep upon the hard stone of the floor, a day of sorrow and terror that stripped the child from him. No longer was he innocent; no longer was he anything._

_Only a day before had the plates of incense burned, the priests had sang the hymns, and his fellow novices had studied the way of the House of Life. Now those plates lay overturned and desecrated amidst the floor's filth. The priests no longer sang, their blood staining their regal attire. His fellow novices slept wide-eyed and their chests would not rise._

_Attempts to clear his mind were done in vain and actually furthered the paranoia entrapping the remnants of his feeble consciousness. Neither controlled cycles of inhalations and exhalations nor counting his fingers helped. With closed eyes he relived the horror brought of those Roman barbarians._

_The temple where once he'd lived and studied was now a tomb of forgotten misfortunates. Gold was plundered, and broken idols scattered the floor. Imagine, a month before: This had been a bustling nome. There had been initiates in training and masters of the elements showing off. There had been scholars studying and warriors practicing. Every one of them was gone. Every one was dead. Every one except him._

_Here he crouched, situated in fetal position and still shaking. He feared the return of the savage Roman force. What a weak thing he was. Too much a coward to leave, and too ashamed to look at the faces of the dead. He watched the light of the outside world, preparing himself to die. The Romans never came back and he continued to live._

_Why couldn't he die? He had nothing; he was nothing. Yes, he had once been something: an initiate in training for the Per Ankh. The House of Life, what irony. Here, these dead things, this was the House of Death. Egypt had fallen. He had no house, no purpose, so he should have ceased to exist. Yet, still he persisted. _Why?_, he asked himself every night._

_All he had known had ended on the deathbed of that last pharaoh, Cleopatra. Egypt, now, was just another province of Rome. The House was gone, yet here he was. Thus, he concluded there had to be a reason for his continued existence, and he resolved himself to wait. He drank water and ate food enough to sustain himself, not too much more for there were few rations left. Some days he wondered that maybe fate was keeping him alive, so it could see him wither away and die in a slow, painful end. He came to this conclusion more and more often as the days, then weeks, crept by. Still, he continued waiting._

_One morning when shadows of the temple's columns seem longer than usual, his vigil was rewarded by the whisper of voices and braying of donkeys: a caravan. A decent group, but they spoke a language neither Coptic nor Latin. Instead, magic was woven into their words. Magic unlike that which resided in the spells and incense of the Per Ankh, but older, sturdy and tried. In his gut he knew that he had been waiting for these people. Gripped by fear that they would move on and leave him, he forced himself to sit, and then to speak. Having not to have needed to speak, his first call was clumsy and soft-spoken as he mouthed, "I'm here."_

_The voices didn't waver; they hadn't heard him. He had to be louder. "I'm here," he repeated, his voice still just a weak whisper. Tears dripped down his cheeks as his voice echoed in his head. How meek and sad. How lonely and desperate. Maybe a few voices had faltered, but still too quickly was his call dismissed as a trick of the desert._

_"I'm here." Now he was speaking as he would answer his teacher. Boldly... and sure of himself._

_They still didn't hear: He had to go to them. As he made to stand, his knees were as jelly and he toppled over to the sandy floor, the gritty specks scratching his nearly dry throat. Breathing deep he prepared himself for one last call. It was loud, and it was longing. "I'm here," it jovially declaimed. He was here. He was not dead, but found. A sudden silence evidenced he had been heard. Giddy with unsuppressed delight, he allowed his head to fall to the ground. Tears that he didn't know he had wetted the dusty stone beneath him. _

_A girl's gentle hand caressed his face, and her kind voice answered him in his own tongue, "Yes, brother, you're here." He savored that last word, here. Was there any other word as glorious as Ra's boat rising in the east as that word: here. Relying on the girl's strength he struggled to his feet and walked out into the bright, blinding light of the day. She helped him onto the back on the mule, and after the caravan had rested, they moved on. He vaguely remembered the slow gait of the mule as it marched, the food and drink the girl forced down his throat, and the caravan's walking songs and laughter. Nor could he shake the sense something was at their backs._

_It was as she was washing his face his delirium left him. She looked like any other Bedouin girl: tan coppery skin, a nose pierced twice for twin gold rings, and sleek black hair. Also she wore the type of loose clothing that was common to them, but she did not hide her face behind a veil. It was a nice face. Heart-shaped, a straight nose, expressive dark eyebrows, honest lips that weren't painted red or some other unnatural color, and kohl didn't line her eyes. __As for personality, she seemed nice but reserved. Her subtle frown marked her as no stranger to loss. If she noticed his gaze, she didn't act upon it; instead, she allowed him to continue his inspection. Waiting for him to speak, perhaps?_

_"Who are you?" he asked, hesitance softening his tone. _

_Stoically her nimble hand returned the wet cloth to the clay bowl beside her. He watched the cloth's languid descent to the bottom. Tendrils of dirt stemmed from the cloth, clouding the water._

_"How long were you there?" Her mellifluous voice was honey, seductively charming._

_"How long has Cleopatra been dead?" He knew not the number of days that had passed. There had been no use, no reason to count them._

_"A year, some months," she provided. Her blue eyes, blue as the cold grip of death, bore into him. "Little brother, I am sorry for your loss."_

_A stray tear ran down his cheek. "The Per Ankh…"_

_"Dead."_

_"Then the gods have forsaken us."_

_She shook her head. "Now, little brother, they had to go. Egypt is no longer theirs; rather, now it's the extended territory of the Roman ones. Thus, your gods are exiles."_

_"Cowards," he sneered._

_The girl only shrugged. "Gods don't have to be brave, they just have to be. Iskandar, it when weakness is shown you know them as they actually are. Do you know why a mortal mustn't see gods in their true forms?"_

_"They go insane?" Every novice knew that._

_"Why?"_

_"Because mortal are not able to stand their greatness."_

_To his dismay, she laughed. "No, that is not why insanity is the result. No, rather, mortals don't want to know what the truth is."_

_"What is the truth then?"_

_He felt his soul drown in the depths of her eyes. Her own bitter sorrow cleansed away the years of chanting and believing what good initiates accept. "In their true form, they can't hide what is truth. A person goes insane because they expected to be overwhelmed in dual awe and fear. Instead, you see they are a mortal thing, like you and I, which can die."_

_"You speak heresy."_

_She lazily grinned; his words could not change her resolve. No, how could they? "When you know and seen all I have, then you know I speak true."_

_Had this conservation come earlier, he would denounce her then and there, but his gods were cowards. They had left him to die; they had let the House die. Therefore, what he did then was heresy, but he would be a heretic amidst other heretics. Did that cancel out his sin? As he would to a pharaoh, he kissed the ground before her and asked for her to teach him in her ways._

_Her blue eyes widened, but she did not flinch. "Are you sure?"_

_"Indeed."_

_She shook her head, the blue seas depth shallowed. "You know not what you ask, little brother. Under my guidance, you would learn old magic. Things your House never knew, could never even attempt. Magic, that if you survive, a very unlikely feat, will make you the greatest magician yet to be seen. Do you understand that you ask for me to defile the way of your elders and kings, to raise old terrors, and tell of deeds gone unwritten? I plead of you of you to reconsider or to, at least, spend just one more moment of pondering over this decision."_

_He rose into a kneel. His hand's sat flat upon his lap and his eyes met hers. "I understand, but know this is the only path I'm left to walk. The Per Ankh is dead, and I've no one else except for you to be my teacher."_

_A sigh, and a nod. "Very well, if you insist." She drew from her belt, a dagger bejeweled at the hilt. Blood-red ruby set against onyx. The blade, touched by crimson where it had slid across her palm, was passed to him. Gulping down any last resistance he allowed followed her example._

_"I, Aka, Queen of the people of Ma'at, do claim this boy, Iskandar, as our own, as pupil and peer, as friend and brother." She held his hand out, and their blood dripped upon the sand, staining it red. An offering to Set._

_"I though you didn't believe in my gods," he commented._

_She stood pulling her shawl over her head, and held out her hand, so he could do likewise. "I never said that. I believe they are not human, but not that they are gods, exactly. After all, who decides who is god and who is mortal?"_

_Iskandar thought a moment. Who built the temples? Who built the pyramids? Who composed the chants and hymns? "Man," he said, at long last._

_"You learn quick," she noted. "Your first lesson starts now."_

_"Truly? What are you to teach me?"_

_She pulled him along. "Romans don't like deserts, so you ask for protection where you can."_

_"That... why, oh. Ah."_

_"Set is not bad, completely. Mischievous, often misguided, but, still, he does have some redeeming qualities," Aka mused._

_"He does?"_

_"Well, considering he was the one the one that raised the sandstorm that confused our sense of direction and led to our finding of you, I believe you owe him thanks."_

_Iskandar frowned. What did it mean that the god of evil had taken special interest in him? Who were these people that traveled in the name of Ma'at?_

_"Second lesson: history."_

_Iskandar smiled; he had excelled in history. Before Aka began, she took a seat at the fire beside a greasy-haired man with many tattoos covering what skin was exposed. Upon second glance, Iskandar realized he was a priest of Set or, at least, had been. Uneasily, Iskandar joined her. Once comfortably situated in a huddle of blankets, Aka began, "In the time before, there were only two gods…"_

_"Except, they weren't really gods were they?" Iskandar voiced, remembering their earlier conversation._

_The priest raised his bottle. "Aye, I think I can grow to like this one." Aka chuckled, taking a hearty swig from the bottle once he offered to her. Drawn to her laughter, others joined them: a man with one lone green eye as the other had been gouged out, a woman with a shaved head and nearly white irises, and a girl about twelve with cinnamon skin and amber eyes whose name, when offered, was Zia._

_Once the newcomers had found their seats the tale continued. "One, was the Ma'at, Eugracia. The other was her son, Apophis." Iskandar felt his stomach. She had said the name. "And neither was evil."_

_The group had gone quiet; ten eyes looked his way in concern. The girl, Zia reached out to him and placed his hand in hers. "Are you alright, brother?" the young girl inquired._

_"She said the serpent's name," he murmured. The crackle of the fire sputtered and suddenly died._

_Aka nodded. "I did. I don't fear his name." She snickered quietly to herself. "I'm already damned. That serpent can't do more to me than I have already done to myself."_


	28. Cake Tasting

**To be honest, my trouble in not in the writing. Rather, it's with the typing and the fact my space bar and I aren't seeing eye to eye, at moment. Regardless, it's October! Also known as my favorite month. Be it the pumpkin pancakes or the carved pumpkins, you can't have too many pumpkins. Also my birthday is coming up soon, really soon like mother is already rubbing my presents in my face soon. Not to mention, Halloween is a great way to end a month. It's even likely it won't snow this Halloween because the leaves are just turning. Therefore, wherever you are, hope you have a great October. Read, enjoy, and if you want to leave a review, I'd appreciate it. Also free to PM me, if you have a question or comment you don't feel comfortable leaving in a review. And to answer sadiekane031798: soon. Very soon. **

Away in the Duat, in the light of the Lake of Fire, Sadie and Anubis sampled wedding cakes in the kitchen of Sunny Acres.

Arranged in neat rows, cakes of all flavors and frostings begged to be tasted. Lemon with French Vanilla. Chocolate with Milk Chocolate. Vanilla with Cherry. Endless options, the hippo goddess offered. Currently, it was the red velvet with cream cheese filling and white chocolate frosting Sadie poked at. Playfully, she fed Anubis a spoonful, and he played along.

It didn't take the goddess's over five thousand years of wisdom to know something preoccupied the funeral god's mind.

Still, it was Anubis. He never really talked about feelings to anyone. That's why when Sadie came into his life and he started opening up, some of the gods had deigned to meet at a second council to re-discuss the dilemma of mortal-god dating and why the vote swung, allowing Osiris to grant Anubis this exception.

When Sadie excused herself to go to the loo, the Tawaret sidled up to the jackal-eared god, who was poking at the German chocolate with rather obvious disinterest. "How's life?"

The youthful god stared at her in vexed puzzlement. "Good," he replied before returning to his assault of the cake.

Unfazed, the goddess continued on. "If you are so good, why are you troubled?"

The thinness of his white cotton shirt betrayed the tensing of his muscles. "I'm not troubled. I'm good." His smile attempted the impossible, fooling her. "I'm good," he repeated, convincing not her but possibly himself. "I am."

"Are you?" she sincerely returned.

His eyes didn't say the same thing as his mouth. They said no while it stubbornly clung to yes. And with Sadie's return, the conversation was left for another time, another place.

With the subtle intertwining of her fingers with his, Sadie shyly smiled. "Do you have a favorite?"

Anubis shrugged. "They are all…" he glanced at the knowing Tawaret, "good."

His fiancé sighed, her head falling against his shoulder. "Uh-huh, but do you have a preference?"

He shyly shook his head. His hair, longer and messier than he normally allowed it these days, shook with it. "Whatever you want."

Stepping back, Sadie eyed him pointedly. "Yes, but what do _you_ want?"

With a crooked smile, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I honestly am without preference," he claimed.

"I don't believe that." Sure cake was good, regardless. But everyone had a favorite. Especially a god who already had millennia to decide.

Anubis shook his head in irritable annoyance. "The lemon then," he growled.

Giggling, she kissed his cheek. "Lemon it is."

He nodded, but he was struggling to be amiable. Only he wasn't as nonchalant as he thought. Both Tawaret and Sadie had no trouble seeing it. The latter was watched him in concern, wondering if she had done something. For now that she thought about it, he had been somewhat standoffish for a while.

"Anubis," she began, her voice unusually gentle and vulnerable, "if something's wrong, you can tell me."

She meant it. She really did. If he ever had a chance to tell her, it was now. Anubis steadied himself and said, "I-I, I have…" and lost confidence.

"You have?" Sadie urged.

Anubis nervously chuckled. He couldn't quite tell the truth, nor now could he lie. A response left his mouth before second thought for by then it would've died, "I've been helping Marisol out with Roselle."

The relief in Sadie's eyes was contagious. "Oh," she murmured in surprised solace. "That's great. I mean, Roselle seemed to really like you."

"Roselle?" Tawaret inquired. Sadie explained. She had this friend Marisol, who had a pregnancy as a teenager. Roselle was her daughter, who seemed to like Anubis when they had housesat for Marisol some weeks ago.

As explanations were concluding, a cheery Bes wandered in with one of his hippo-dwarf children clinging to his leg. His beard untrimmed, his Hawaiian shirt loud; the dwarf was a picture of health and his typical eccentric character. "Annie! How's it going in Paradise?" Pointing to the table of cakes, he asked, "Which one did you choose? Personally I can't make up my mind. My honey dear is just to good for me to choose. _Anyway_, talking about your upcoming nuptials, have you chosen a best man yet?"

The god of funerals welcomed the change of topic. "Fine, the lemon, and no. I've not chosen my best man yet."

"That's a shame," Bes sighed, shooting Anubis a not so discrete look.

Rolling his eyes, Anubis figured he couldn't let the dwarf down. "Would you like to be my best man?"

Feigning surprise, Bes bashfully blushed and wiped away a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye. "Surely, you don't mean it?"

"Of course, I mean it," Anubis assured him, giving in to his theatrics. "Who else would I ask? Horus?"

There wasn't a god (or soon-to-be god) in the room that didn't double over choking on their laughter as they pictured that absurd scenario.


	29. Regardless

**So, admittedly not soon, but... I don't have the free time my freshman self had. Maybe one day I will be better? Who knows...Nonetheless, enjoy the chapter. Review if you want, it's always nice to hear your thoughts. **

In her apartment bathroom, Marisol sat on the closed toilet seat. She stared in dismal dismay at the pregnancy test in her left hand. It wasn't impossible for the test to be wrong, but she knew chances of that were slim.

The months to come weren't the cause for her need to catch her breath; rather, it was the necessary act of telling the father that had her sick with nausea. After Roselle, they'd been so careful. However, there had been a night that they'd slipped some. She had assured him she was on the pill, for she thought she was. Only the next morning, she discovered she had forgotten to take it not once but twice consecutively. Hoping it would be nothing, she hadn't told him. Knowing her luck, she ought to have known better. Now, when she told him, it would look like she was trying to get him to reconsider his wedding. And that wasn't the case. That was how Roselle happened, but this time…this was true error.

She had two choices: Tell him before, or tell him after the wedding. There was no questioning she would tell him. The child would be his, as well; thus, he had a right to know of its existence.

Marisol stood and dumped the test into the trash. Leaving the bathroom, she ventured into her study to pay the doctor a call to make an appointment. Then, she made a second call to her trusted friend.

"Lace?" she said, soft as a whimper.

"Yes? How can I help you? Unless…."

"It's me, Marisol."

"Oh, hey. How are you?"

"Not well, babe."

To be expected, Lacy returned with a why. Marisol didn't hold back, and patiently she awaited the judgement to come.

"You should tell him now," Lacy suggested. "That way, it won't seem like you were trying to hide it."

Marisol agreed, but did say. "It still looks desperate."

The other line was silent as Lacy considered what to say. "Marisol, if he knows you and loves you, he'll know you're not trying to end his marriage plans."

"If he loves me, why is he marrying Sadie?" she sniffled, giving voice to the negative Nancy she privately hassled in her head.

Hearing the front door open she bid Lace good night.

He was early and smiling when he saw her. Closing the door he announced the reason. "I'll be over more." Continuing he informed her how Sadie had been led to believe he was only helping out with Roselle. Keenly he noted her reluctance. "Is something—?"

"We need to talk."

He nodded and started toward the living room, but she directed him to the dining room, instead. He could only assume it was going to be a serious conversation. Serious, it was.

Marisol sat opposite him. The landscape of the city spread out before them and the table created a stable place amid her chaos. He could hear the faint sounds of Roselle talking to her toys, and if he wasn't sitting at a table with an unusually somber Marisol, he might've been at home. Only Marisol couldn't meet his eyes, and her hand evaded his when he tried to take hold of it. He only wanted to hold her, to kiss her forehead and ensure her the world was all sunshine and rainbow. He yearned for her smile and lusted for her laugh. All he entertained was her frown.

"Marisol?" Anubis warily ventured.

She sniffled. "I'm sorry," she quietly offered.

"For?"

"I should've told you." That didn't help. Oh, how futile it felt as she saw his back straighten and his hint of a smile vanish into his tight-lipped seriousness. "Anubis, you remember some nights ago…" He sagged in the chair, fearing where this was headed just as much as she feared his reaction. "Well, I hoped, perhaps, we would be okay. Still, just to be sure, I bought a test and, well, we're going to have another it seems."

He rubbed his forehead stiffly. "Are you still going to Chicago?"

Marisol bowed her head. "Anubis…"

"Are you?" he demanded.

"Yes, we are."

Think, Anubis, he thought. How could he please everyone and still keep his love and children close. Chicago was not a place for a god. When she left, he would lose her. Of course, staying in New York was not an option, but what stopped her from going somewhere else. Surely there were cities that would be friendly to both Egyptians and rogues like….

"What about New Orleans?" he asked.

"What about it?"

"Could you move there?"

Marisol shook her head. "I don't know."

"I'd find the house, if needed pay, find you work—I'd do anything. I just want to be near you and Roselle and our little," he gestured to her abdomen.

She was smiling. "You're not mad."

"No," he laughed. "How could I be?"

"Well, one could think I might have done this as a way to convince you to leave Sadie."

"One would," Anubis agreed. "I don't. It's not something you'd do."

Guilt seared like a knife to the back. Only she held the knife and the back in question was Anubis's. It was something she would do, and she suspected he knew it. Only he loved her, regardless.


	30. Alive

**I know, two days in a row. The shock, the weirdness... Well, it's not long, but I figure short chapters have their blessings as well. They're better than nothing, no? Enjoy, review if you like. I'd love to hear your theories about who a certain he is at the end of this chapter...Have a good day. I have AP homework. **

The days had gotten chillier, and Thoth was questioning spending winter on such a small desolate northern island when sudden bout of rapping on his door indicated the return of the guard. Not just any guard either; it was the tattooed man. Only the tattooed man beat the door so hoarsely; the others were of a gentler knocking temperament. Abandoning his only reading material, an old _BoatingWorld_ magazine too invested in fiberglass for Thoth's liking. The wooden barges of the Nile had held splendor, but these modern toys were simply a bore or so sparkling they blinded like Isis when she was once again trying to outdo everyone else. Uh, not that was a common experience...just for Set.

Thoth let the door open just a crack. How the mighty had fallen, that the extent to which he opened a door was all the power he had. Somehow, his touch on magic had gone. He would ask how they had managed, but Thoth had reckoned considering how protective they were of every syllable that what he wondered was far past their line of professional conversational material.

"Good day, Thoth," the man gruffly gave.

"How is it good?" the god scoffed. The northern air was not too his liking in the least. Why did some mortals curse themselves by choosing such dreadful lands to live?

The man shrugged. Thoth envied the good coat he wore. "Well, you're going back to Brooklyn," so casually said, it seemed possible to just something of the guard's odd humor. The priests of Set were always men of odd humors.

"I am?" He was. His brow furrowed. Wasn't his return beyond the point of his being here, so he couldn't get away?

"Of course," so this conclusion was obvious whatever it was," we wouldn't want you to miss the wedding." Thoth studied the past priest of Set, trying to place value in his words. If this was true, it was too good of an offer. And there was a saying about things too good to be believed.

"What's wanted of me in return?" the god knowingly inquired.

The devil grinned. "Just a delivery."

"Oh, goody. What am I a deliveryman of?" Bones? Tar and Feathers? Another god or poor soul? The gift with a double meaning?

The guard beckoned for Thoth to follow him. Warily the wise god left the doorway to his room and followed the guard to the door of a room on the second floor that he wondered of for a while now. It was door identical to his own. However, its occupant could be anyone. Possibly even a voluntary dweller of the island; though, it seemed more likely that behind that door was another prisoner. Regarding the poor fellow formerly screaming in the basement, Thoth didn't entertain he would be given a vigorous friend with whom he might actually converse. More like, whatever was beyond that door was broken. So when gently the guard pushed open the door, Thoth saved a breath before daring to look in. He chuckled. This was brilliant.

"I don't know if they'll be pleased, but they will be surprised," the god granted. Turning to the guard, Thoth pondered, "How is he alive? Both Osiris and Anubis were there to weigh his heart and send his soul onward to paradise."

The guard nodded way of the room's resident. "Considering the road-trip you two have planned, I think that's more than enough time for him to tell you, himself."


End file.
